Thom
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: What if Tim really was Thom? What does that mean for him? And what does that mean for the team? Warning: Long story. Now complete. It was long and hard to write, but I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.
1. Prologue: Creation

**A/N: **This story was inspired by watching _The Bourne Ultimatum_. That means it is slightly derivative, but I hope it is still interesting enough to read. While it began as an idea of Tim having another identity, it has taken so many turns that it's hardly recognizable as what I thought it would be in the beginning. Spoilers for season four.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of NCIS, it's characters, nor the franchise. I just wish I did.

**

* * *

****Prologue: Creation**

"We need someone in NCIS."

"Why? It's military only. We haven't had to deal with the military for years."

"It's becoming more and more important to have ears in _every_ federal agency. That includes NCIS. You never know when something will happen and we'll need information."

"Do you _really_ think that is necessary?"

"Yes."

"Why now? And why not just use one of your own agents?"

"My agents are too well-known in federal circles. They'd give themselves away somehow."

"How?"

"By being too good. We need a so-called _sleeper agent_. Someone who will perhaps never even know what they are. Someone we can call into service–or remove from service–at any time."

"I don't like what you're proposing. We all have the same goal, after all."

"You'd rather be taken by surprise when a case comes up in NCIS that relates to us? You'd rather have the people at NCIS find out about us and open us to full scrutiny by the harsh light of day? We don't work like other people. We can only survive in darkness. Forget about the morality of the situation and tell me if you think it's possible."

"It's possible. What you're proposing is easy enough, in theory. Suppressing the original personality will be difficult, but it's possible if you get the right person. Once that has happened, it is only a matter of placing a small compulsion in the mind along with orders to forget about each report as it happens. He... or she..."

"He."

"He will be, to his knowledge, completely loyal and a normal employee of NCIS. We can place a desire in his mind to join and to get into the main headquarters."

"Good."

"I take it that you have someone in mind already?"

"Yes. Here's his file."

"Thomas Elton Gemcity. Interesting name. It almost sounds made up. Why him?"

"He goes by Thom. Thom E. Gemcity. It's his real name, and he's perfect. He has no family to speak of anymore. He tested at genius levels in high school but dropped out when his parents died to try to take care of his baby sister. When she was taken from him, he ran away from foster care and has been essentially homeless for the last five years. His sister grew up in another loving family. She doesn't remember him except as a vague presence. No one will notice his absence, and he has the innate intelligence we'll need to get him employed, albeit a bit rusty at the moment."

"We'll need to create an entirely new identity for him, and educate him to fit what we decide to do. We can't leave any holes. If there's a single fact out of place, the whole persona we're creating could become unstable and collapse. I'll leave that up to you and your... people."

"Done. How much time will you need to get set up?"

"Two days. We can start deconstructing his personality as soon as we have him, but we'll need to have someone to put in his place almost at once; so you'd better have it ready when you give him to us."

"We'll be ready."

"You've already started, haven't you."

"Of course."

"One word of warning, however."

"Yes?"

"It is impossible to completely get rid of the original personality. What we'll be doing is putting an overlay on the existing person. We can't destroy Thom completely. Pieces of him will flare up at unexpected times. That can't be avoided. It will be better if you make his new personality at least slightly similar to the original. Also, he should have a handler."

"Already planned for that."

"Someone who will be expected to be close to him, a family member if possible. A younger sister perhaps?"

"Why younger?"

"He'll be more likely to be protective and close to a younger sibling, particularly with his current background. That feeling will still exist. He'll feel responsible and if it's a sister rather than a brother, there will be less possibility of invented sibling rivalries."

"We can do that."

"She'll have to know his personality intimately. In fact, she should be in on the creation... that is if you aren't finished already."

"I know just the person."

"You've been planning this for a long time, haven't you? You already knew what I'd say."

"I did need to hear it from your own mouth, and you gave additional information that I didn't have before, but yes, it's been in the works for months."

"When will I have him?"

"Thom will be in your hands in two days; so you'd better be ready by then."

"We'll be ready. The real question is will he."


	2. The End of Thom E Gemcity

**Chapter 1: The End of Thom E. Gemcity**

Thom looked both ways before sidling out of the alley. New York got cold in the winter, and the alleyways usually offered some protection from the wind. He got by doing odd jobs for people, like clearing asbestos and, when it got really bad, begging. He hated to beg. He knew there was more he could do with himself, but every time he thought of it, life kicked him lower. It was only his own sheer stubbornness that kept him from breaking down completely. Lately, however, it had been getting more and more difficult to hide, to keep the tears from surfacing. He shook his head and focused on his goal. That twenty would feed him for days. No one had seen it, and no one would be able to say that it wasn't his... besides, they'd be unable to catch him. He could move quickly when he wanted to.

He started across the street. He'd been watching that bill, wedged under a bench in the park for the last five minutes. Normally, he wasn't quite so cautious, but twenty-dollar bills weren't normally indicative of his luck. When Thom got to the bench he bent down, ostensibly to tie the sodden remains of his boots. He reached out for the bill but stopped when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was a family: mother, father, two children. They were laughing and happy and they looked as though they hadn't a care in the world. It was Christmastime, he remembered. A time for families to be together. Unexpectedly, tears sprang to his eyes as he remembered what he had lost so long ago. He picked up the bill and put it in his pocket, but instead of moving on, he sat on the bench and cried. It wasn't often that he allowed himself to feel anything. He'd squashed his emotions and tried to kill his memories, but at times like these, all the will in the world couldn't keep him from remembering how happy he had been.

The little girl looked at him as he leaned back, trying to control his emotions. He smiled tearfully at her. She smiled back, waved and said happily, "Merry Christmas!"

The girl's mother pulled her closer. "Don't talk to strangers, Janene." She tried to continue on their way. Thom didn't move, not even to beg.

"But Mommy, he looks sad. People shouldn't be sad on Christmas! Can I give him one of my cookies? Please?"

Thom looked up and watched as the mother, obviously torn between admiration for her daughter's caring attitude and frustration at not being able to say no, looked to her husband. He simply shrugged and fished in the large bag for a box of Christmas cookies. He gave one to Janene and then took her by the hand and walked back to Thom, who still sat on the bench.

"Here, sir! Here's a Christmas present for you! Merry Christmas!"

Thom couldn't stop the tears as he reached out with a dirty and damaged hand to take the proffered gift. For a moment, he couldn't get any words out. She reminded him of his sister, lost now, like everything else he had treasured.

Finally, he was able to say, "Thank you. Merry Christmas."

"You're welcome! This is the best time of the year! Santa is going to come tonight and I'll get presents!"

Thom cleared his throat. He tried to smile again. There'd been little enough to smile about the last few years.

"I'm sure you will. You've been a good girl this year?" he asked, drawing on memories of happier times.

"Yep!"

"Good for you. Merry Christmas and thank you again." He was able to sound much more genuine that time.

Janene's father looked at Thom with sympathy. He put out his hand. "Merry Christmas, son."

Thom stared at the hand as if he'd never seen it before. Then, the tears still flowing, he stood and shook it. "Thank you, sir."

"Do you need anything?"

Thom laughed a little. "I just found a twenty. I'm set for weeks."

"Here's another twenty." The man pulled out his wallet and pressed another folded bill into Thom's hand before he could protest and then, he took Janene by the hand and went back to the rest of his family.

Thom sat back down on the bench and heard Janene ask, "Why is he sad, Daddy?"

"Some people are lonely at Christmas, dear, and sometimes they aren't able to be with their own families or even in their own homes."

"Is that why you gave him money?"

"Yes. If someone can't be home, then he can at least have a good meal."

"I'll always help, Daddy."

The voices faded into the distance. Thom sat on the bench looking at the bill. It was a hundred, not a twenty. He quickly shoved it into his pocket, lest anyone else notice his good fortune and try to take it for themselves. Then, he stared at the cookie. It was a sugar cookie, cut in the shape of a Christmas tree, decorated with green icing and sprinkles. It was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in a long time. He almost didn't want to eat it. Almost. He sat on the bench and savored every bite, little knowing what would shortly befall him.

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"Should we take him now?"

"No. Let him finish."

"Why?"

"This is the first good thing that has happened to this man in years probably. Let his last moments be happy ones."

"You're getting soft."

"Probably. I can still kill you in seconds though; so don't bring it up again."

"Yes, sir."

The two men watched in tense silence, their tranquilizer dart at the ready. The forlorn figure finished the Christmas cookie and started to brush the gathering snow off his shoulders.

"Now?"

"Now."

The dart hit Thom's shoulder and he was out in seconds, just another bum sleeping on a park bench. No one noticed as the two men walked to the bench, picked up the unconscious figure and carried him to a waiting van which disappeared into the night. Thom E. Gemcity ceased to exist...

...and no one missed him.


	3. The Beginning of Timothy McGee

**Chapter 2: The Beginning of Timothy McGee**

"So? Who is he?"

"Timothy McGee."

"Timothy McGee?" There was a short pause. "That's an anagram of Thom E. Gemcity."

"Yep."

"Couldn't you be a bit more creative?"

"It's a good idea. It works. Here's his history."

"His parents are dead in this personality as well?"

"A necessity. We want to keep his background confined to as few people as possible."

"That makes sense. He's tall, and his 'sister' doesn't look much like him."

"Don't worry. The composites will give them parents who have similar features."

"She knows it all?"

"Yes. Her name is Sarah. She was in on the project from the beginning."

"She's looks young."

"That's why we chose her. She'll do the job right."

"Okay."

"When will you get started?"

"We've already started. His re-education is happening as we speak, along with his new personality. The file is getting fed into the computer right now. When he wakes up in six months, he'll always have been Timothy McGee."

"Good."

"Where will you start him?"

"He'll have attended MIT and Johns Hopkins. We're starting him in grad school. Then, he'll decide to go to FLETC for training. From there, he'll apply to NCIS, hopefully with the goal to get into the main headquarters."

"We'll get him there. When do you want the compulsion to kick in?"

"Only once he's employed by NCIS. I have no desire to listen to college stories."

There was silence from the other man.

"What."

"This is your last chance to back out of this. As good as we are, there is still a chance it could all go wrong."

"Get started."

The door closed firmly behind him. The remaining man looked down at the motionless figure covered in wires and probes. His eyes were slightly open, but empty as lights danced across his head.

"Well, Timothy. You don't have many around to witness your birth. No doctors, no nurses, no parents. Just me. I guess I'm as good a parent as any. I'm sure you won't mind if there's a only small audience. When you wake up, you won't remember any of this anyway. Thom is dead now, but from what I've read, I don't think it's a great loss for you. Thom's life was almost over. Timothy McGee has a real chance for life. I suggest you take it."

The man formerly known as Thom lay on the slab. Motionless. He wasn't anyone yet. He didn't register any words that had been spoken. In only a short time, however, he would be Timothy McGee, a computer expert who wanted to be a field agent at NCIS.

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_Six months later..._

Tim opened his eyes. For a moment, there was a feeling of dislocation as if he'd missed out on, or perhaps forgotten, something important. He looked around at his apartment. It was small and cramped, but typical for someone in graduate school. At least Sarah wasn't sharing the apartment with him. He shook his head and laughed to himself. What else had he expected? The brochure was still on the bed next to him from when he'd been looking at it the night before. _The night before?_ NCIS was his new goal. It was good to have something to shoot for. He'd read over the requirements multiple times. He'd get into FLETC with no problem. Then, he'd just have to find a way to get a foot in the door. He stood and stretched, a wide smile on his face. It was a beautiful new day, and the possibilities were endless.


	4. What's In A Name?

**Chapter 3: What's In A Name?**

"What is up with you, Tim?" Abby asked. "No one should be that worked up about their name."

Tim shrugged. "I don't know, Abby. I told you that I'm no good at taking tests. They make me nervous."

"Tim, this isn't a test. It's your name. We know our names from infancy. Is it because of your pen name, you think?"

"I don't know why that would be. I don't use it as a real name. It's just on my books."

"Don't worry so much, McGee. You'll be fine."

"I don't know, Abby. Something feels off."

"Off, how?"

"I can't explain it." Tim shook his head and looked away. "It's been in the last few weeks. Things feel... wrong, off-balance."

"Maybe you're coming down with something." Abby put a playful hand on his forehead.

He smiled and pushed her hand away. "I'm not. I'm the picture of perfect health. I'm just losing my mind is all."

"Oh, well, in that case, there's nothing to worry about. Let's go."

"After you, my dear," Tim said and gestured grandly toward the door but he couldn't disregard that strange dislocation which was dogging him as if he'd forgotten something.

Present day...

The alarm went off and Tim opened his eyes wide. The dream had been so vivid this time. He'd had vivid dreams for as long as he could remember, but this one had been particularly memorable. He had been homeless. He had actually _felt _that he was hungry and cold. ...and completely alone. It was so strange. He shook his head and wandered into the bathroom. He glanced in the mirror while searching for his razor. For just a moment, he thought he saw someone else in the mirror, a stranger, scruffy and malnourished. He looked again, quickly, but saw only his own reflection.

"That was odd," he said to himself. "My dream must be carrying over from last night. No more late night pizzas for me." He started to shave quickly. There was a new case; no one knew what it was, but Gibbs would not take kindly to anyone being late. Tim finished shaving and looked down into the sink to wash the remaining hairs away.

He looked up and was in his kitchen, his coffee pot boiling over. He didn't even remember having turned it on. He looked down at his watch. "Oh, no! I'm going to be late!" he shouted. What had happened to the last hour? There was no time to wonder. Tim turned off the coffee pot and ran out the door.

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"Sorry, I'm late, Boss! I don't know what happened."

"No excuses, McGee. You're behind. Get caught up," Gibbs said abruptly. "Abby needs you down in the lab."

"Yes, Boss!" Tim dropped his bag at his desk and then ran back to the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, Ziva looked over at Tony.

"Is it just me or has he seemed more... spatterbrained lately?"

"It's scatterbrained, Ziva. And McGee? Scatterbrained? Where would you get that idea?" Tony asked sarcastically.

Gibbs walked by and slapped Tony on the head; then, proving he was an equal-opportunity slapper, he walked over behind Ziva and slapped her too. "Enough talk. We have a leak in NCIS, and I want to know who, or what, it is. Three suspects have escaped arrest just before we got our warrants in the last six months. They seem to know the results of our tests when we do. If it's electronic surveillance, I want it stopped. If it's a person, I want to know who it is. The FBI and CIA have been having similar problems and we need to know if these leaks are linked."

"Yes, Boss!" Tony turned back to his computer.

"Yes, Gibbs!" Ziva said and did the same.

Gibbs glared around the room as if he could find the leak just by staring at every inch of the bullpen. Then, he turned and walked up the stairs to Jenny's office.

As soon as he was out of sight, Tony leaned over and said, "So, what do you think, Ziva?"

"I think that if we don't find the leak soon heads will... roll?"

Tony nodded and then added, "And Gibbs will be the first to help us lose them."

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"So, they know about the leak."

"Too much information was getting out. Our operatives are doing their jobs too well and people are starting to notice. It doesn't help that we've had so many cases worked by NCIS in the last little while. On another note, Sarah reported that Tim has seemed out of sorts lately. He's started being late for work and missing appointments. She tried to get him to talk about it, but so far, he hasn't been forthcoming."

"Hmmm..."

"Could the personality be failing?"

"It's possible, but I don't see how. There haven't been any holes."

"What about his book?"

"What about it?"

"Maybe it wasn't a good idea to let him go through with having his pen name be Thom E. Gemcity. It can't be a coincidence that he chose that particular anagram."

"I _told_ you when this started that there would be flashes. If we try to suppress them, he'll know something is off, even if it's just unconsciously. If he starts questioning himself, that _will_ lead to personality failure. We have to let them come out as flashes of creativity, rather than memory. He'll think that it's just his own mind coming up with ideas."

"What if someone recognizes him?"

"Look at his picture now. Look at who he was. There is little resemblance. His own sister wouldn't recognize him anymore."

"What about the name?"

"What about it? You're the one who told me that she has no memories of her brother. The name might conjure up some memories for her, but she was what, four years old when they were separated? It's unlikely she'll remember anything."

"You're right. I'm overreacting."

"I thought that was _my_ job."

"You can have it back now. Tim will be working as hard as anyone to find the leak. No one will suspect him."

"And if they do?"

"We cut him loose. You'll call and give the proper authorization and Tim will be gone."

"I suppose so."

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"McGee! You're late! We have lots of code to run through." Abby didn't even turn around as Tim walked in.

"Morning, Abbs. Where are we starting?" Tim sat down next to her and waited.

"Here." Abby pushed the stool on which Tim sat over to the computer and pointed at the screen. "We're looking to make sure there aren't any viruses or trojans running in our system. Maybe a backdoor or something like that. Gibbs said that Director Shephard wants us to go through every system if we have to."

"Oh, joy."

"Come on, Tim. There's snow on the ground from the spring blizzard. The air is sparkling. It's almost like Christmas!" Abby spun around on her chair and didn't notice Tim's suddenly vacant gaze.

Christmas. A time for families. He saw an image, like a snapshot, of a girl with a Christmas tree in her hand. Snow, in the park.

"Tim? Tim? Earth to Tim! Come in, Tim!" Abby shook him firmly and he jumped as if startled. "Where were you, Tim? It was like you were miles away."

Tim blinked a few times. "I don't know, Abby. It was really weird. I had this dream last night..."

"Did it have to do with the leak at NCIS?" Gibbs asked as he walked in the door.

Immediately, Tim turned back to the computer, thoughts of his strange dream gone. "No, Boss. I'm working."

Gibbs slapped the back of his head. "Good. Keep working. I don't want a leak in my office."

"Yes, sir, Gibbs, sir," Abby said, imitating Gibbs' commanding voice. Gibbs just looked at her. "We'll get right on it, Gibbs."

"Good. If one more suspect gets away because of information being passed out of this office..." he trailed off expressively.

"Yes, Boss," Tim said timidly as he threw himself into the code world. He and Abby worked in silence for the rest of the day. Well, in relative silence. Abby still shouted at the computers and the music blared from the speakers, but very little conversation occurred. Gibbs came in every so often to see what they'd found. There was nothing in the NCIS system constituting a leak. Finally, it was nearly midnight and Tim was drifting off to sleep, still staring at the screen. It was full of numbers and letters that were starting to mush into meaningless drivel. Abby herself was gone on a trip to lala land. Tim fought against the drowsiness that was taking him away. He fought a good fight, but he lost. His head dropped into his arms. The chair rolled a little bit as his body relaxed into a more comfortable posture. Silence reigned in the lab except for the breathing of the two exhausted workers.

If anyone had been watching them, they would have seen a strange sight. Moments after Tim had fallen into a deep sleep, his eyes opened wide in a sightless glance. He stood and walked over to the doorway and then down the hall to a door. He stepped outside into the howling gale, a warmer storm than the blizzard they'd had the day before, and pulled out a cell phone. He dialed a number, all the while staring straight ahead. He spoke with little inflection and then, one minute later, turned and walked back into the building. Five minutes had elapsed from the time he fell asleep to his return to the same position, only rain drops and a few spots of mud on his clothes testifying of his nighttime activity.


	5. It's Not A Computer

**Chapter 4: It's Not A Computer**

"It's nothing in the computers, Gibbs," Abby said, yawning widely. "We checked and," another yawn interrupted her spiel, "re-checked the system. It's secure. Right, McGee?"

Abby looked over and saw Tim, still sprawled out asleep. It was after nine the next morning. They had both awakened at around four and worked solidly until eight. Then, they had fallen asleep again. Abby had woke up when Gibbs entered a few minutes ago, but Tim slept on, oblivious to the current level of scrutiny he was undergoing.

Abby hurried over and whispered, "Wake up, Tim. Gibbs is here."

Immediately, Tim was awake. He sat up so quickly that the chair rolled back and in trying to stop its backward motion, he overcompensated and dumped himself unceremoniously onto the floor. He was up in an instant.

"Sorry, Boss. I must have drifted off," Tim said.

"Never mind, McGee. Do you agree with Abby?"

Tim had missed the first part of the conversation, but he guessed, accurately, what Gibbs wanted to know. "The leak is _not_ in the computers. We couldn't find any viruses, trojans, spyware, nothing. It has to be human because it's not a computer leaking the information."

"Are you both sure?"

"I'd stake my career on it," Abby said firmly.

"Absolutely," Tim said at the same time.

"That means we have to go through all the personnel files."

"Oh, great," Abby moaned.

"Ziva and Tony are already checking on people who have retired or been fired in the last ten years to see if their access codes are still active or if any of them have an ax to grind. You two are to go through the current employees and find out _who_ could be accessing this information. We _need_ to get this leak plugged and fast."

"Yes, Boss," Tim said and started back to the computer.

Abby grabbed his arm to stop him. "We will, Gibbs, but first, we need a break. Tim and I worked all day yesterday and nearly all night. We're going to grab some breakfast." Before Gibbs could overrule her, she continued, "We'll be fast, but we need a break. Otherwise, we'll start to miss things and right now, that's a dangerous prospect isn't it?"

Gibbs looked like he wanted to argue, but he nodded. "You're right, Abby. You two have an hour."

All smiles again, Abby hugged Gibbs quickly and then grabbed Tim again, along with both their coats and said, "See you later, Gibbs!"

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"So?" Abby asked after they had seated themselves at a nearby café. The food wasn't exciting there, but it was cheap, fast and would fill them up better than any of their other options.

"So, what?" Tim asked, confused.

"Sew buttons," Abby quipped, then added, "Your dream, moron. From yesterday. You were going to tell me about your dream when Gibbs interrupted."

Tim blinked. He'd forgotten all about it until that very moment. "It wasn't anything important, Abby."

"I don't care. We've been one with the computers for twenty-four hours. I want to talk about something unelectronic for awhile."

Tim laughed. "Okay. It's not very exciting though."

"Get on with it, Tim. You're wasting our hour."

"Fine. I dreamed that I was homeless. It was winter, close to Christmas, I think. I was alone and cold and hungry. What made it so strange was that I could feel everything. It wasn't like a normal dream. It was almost like I was... remembering something."

Abby laughed. "Are you saying that you used to be homeless, Tim?"

"Of course not. I've told you about my family. I was well-cared for as was Sarah. Even after my parents died..." Here he paused for a moment but continued quickly, "...we never lacked for anything. There was always another possibility, another way to go. I was old enough to take care of her. That's what makes the dream so odd. And then..." he trailed off.

"What? Come on, Tim. What?"

"Yesterday morning, I lost an hour."

"What do you mean, lost?"

"One moment I was in the bathroom, the next in the kitchen and I was late. I didn't have time to think about it yesterday because of the investigation, but I honestly have no memory of an entire hour."

"You probably just drifted off."

"Standing up in the bathroom? And during that time I also made coffee? I don't think so, Abbs."

"Well, do you have a better explanation?"

"No. That's the trouble." Tim tensed a little. "Things feel off."

"You said that when the whole polygraph thing came up."

"I know."

"You didn't have any trouble when the polygraphs finally came around. And now?"

"Now things feel off. I can't explain it any better now than I could before."

They both lapsed into silence and ate quickly. Tim grabbed the check before Abby could protest and paid at the register. He felt that since he'd been so successful with his book, he should pay whenever possible. Then, they walked back toward NCIS, arm in arm. The snow was all melting and slushy from the rain the night before. The cold front had finally moved to the north.

Tim thought of something to get Abby talking so that he wouldn't have to continue analyzing his recent mental wobbling. It made him very uncomfortable. "So, how are the nuns doing?"

"You mean the bowling league?"

"Yeah."

"They're on their way to another victory. They never have big parties celebrating, of course, but you can bet there'll be some serious high fives in the next two weeks."

"I don't know if I could stand the excitement," Tim commented drily.

Abby elbowed him. "Shush. That's what you know."

Their conversation was interrupted by a collision. A teenaged girl was running in their direction and just as she got to them, she skidded in the slush and collided with Tim, sending all three of them to the ground.

"Oh, man, I'm so sorry, you guys. I knew I shouldn't have worn these shoes today." The girl tried to get up and slipped again, this time falling right on top of Tim, who had been trying to help Abby into a sitting position. They crashed to the ground again.

"Janene! Are you okay?" A woman came running up from the opposite direction and skidded a little herself, but managed to stay upright. "Oh dear. Are you two alright? Can I give you a hand?"

"Thanks," Abby said gratefully. She took the offered hand and started to stand.

"Mom? I think something's wrong!" The girl was kneeling beside Tim who had gone rigid and white. His eyes were wide open, but he wasn't speaking.

"Tim!" Abby shouted. She knelt back on the ground and shook him.

"Janene, call 911!" The woman knelt beside Abby and began checking Tim's vitals. "He seems to be having some sort of seizure. Is he epileptic?"

"No! I don't know what's wrong with him," Abby said, worriedly. Tim wasn't shaking. He was completely motionless and was barely breathing. "Can you help?"

"I'm a nurse, but I'm not sure what's wrong. We need to get him to a hospital."

Abby vaguely heard Janene calling for help on her cell phone. Her whole attention was focused on Tim. It had happened so quickly... but what _had_ happened? Maybe he had hit his head, but he wasn't bleeding anywhere.

"They're coming, Mom!" Janene said.

"Good. Call your father and tell him what's going on and that we'll be a little late." The woman kept her eyes on Tim, her hand taking notice of his heart rate, her eyes watching for any sign of consciousness. There was nothing there, just shallow breaths and eyes wide open in shock. "What's his name?"

"Tim McGee. We work just down the street." Abby pointed a shaking finger. She was kneeling on the slushy sidewalk and only now was the chill of her soaking clothes making its way into her consciousness. But she couldn't stand to leave Tim lying there. When the ambulance arrived, the woman quickly apprised the EMTs about what had happened. She asked them what hospital they were heading to and then stood back as they transferred Tim to the gurney and quickly put him in the ambulance. The three women watched as it sped down the street, sirens blaring. Then, the nurse turned to Abby.

"My name is Louisa. This is my daughter Janene. Can we give you a ride to the hospital?"

Abby stared after the ambulance and then realized she was being spoken to. "What? Oh, sorry. My name's Abby. Could you? That would be great."

"Of course. It's the least we can do. Janene, watch where you step. We don't want another spill."

"No, mother," Janene said quietly.

"Hey," Abby said, grabbing Janene by the arm. "It's not your fault. Tim has taken much worse spills than that. Believe me. You didn't do anything to him except sweep him off his feet. I'm sure he'll be fine."

Janene smiled a little.

As they drove to the hospital, Abby suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be working. She pulled out her cell phone which, thankfully, had not been broken, and called Gibbs.

"Gibbs!"

"Abby, where in the world are you? You were supposed to be back twenty minutes ago!"

"I know, Gibbs, and I'm sorry, but something happened to Tim. He had a seizure or something and I'm on my way to the hospital to make sure he's all right. I'll come back right after, I promise."

"What happened?" Gibbs asked, concern now replacing annoyance.

"I don't know. We had a slight collision with a girl running down the street," Abby smiled at Janene to show there was no blame in her words, "but he was okay. Wet, but okay. Then, he suddenly went rigid. I don't know what caused it."

"Call his sister when you get there. She should know, and then you won't have to leave McGee alone at the hospital."

Abby smiled at the care Gibbs was taking. "Will do, Gibbs. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"No rush, but get back fast."

"Yes, sir." Abby hung up. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost. Where do you work, Abby?"

"Tim and I work at NCIS."

Janene finally stopped brooding at looked up. "What's that?"

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service. We work on cases involving the military."

"Wow. What do you do? You don't look like someone in the military."

"Janene!"

"No, it's okay, Louisa. I'm not military. Neither is Tim. We just investigate military cases. I work in forensics. Tim is an agent. We're late for work"

"I'm sorry!" Janene said.

"It's okay. Are you guys from around here?"

"Nope. We're New Yorkers born and bred," Louisa said. "Janene's here as part of a school project for helping the homeless."

"Wow. How old are you, Janene?"

"Fifteen. I'll be sixteen in a few weeks."

"That's pretty impressive. Most people don't develop social consciences that early."

Louisa answered for her daughter who had just blushed and hidden her face again. "Janene's been keen on helping others for the last ten years or so. She met a homeless man in a park once a few years ago and it stuck with her. This is just the latest step. Since the program she's attending coincided with Spring Break, we decided to make a family trip of it."

"Well, I'm sorry to interrupt it."

"Oh, no! It's fine. We'll just meet up with Dan and Jason a little later than we'd planned. Here we are!" Louisa said as they pulled up to the hospital.

Abby fished a card out of her bag and handed to Louisa. "Thanks so much! If there's anything I can do for you, just give me a call!" She jumped out of the car and waved them away. Then, she turned and ran into the hospital, intent on wreaking havoc until she found out how Tim was.


	6. It Must Be Human

**Chapter 5: It Must Be Human**

Tim opened his eyes and wondered why he was expecting to see an alleyway. He was obviously in a hospital. He tried to move and felt as tired out by that as if he'd just run a marathon.

"Tim!" The voice startled him and he looked to his left. Sarah was sitting there, concern written on every line of her face. "I was so worried!"

"Sarah. Didn't you have a test today?"

"It's long over, Tim. It's nearly five."

Tim sat up and then grabbed his head to keep it from falling off. "Five in the evening? What happened?"

"I could ask you the same question. I got a call from Abby this morning saying that you had a seizure and that you were unconscious in this hospital. She only stayed long enough to point me to your room because she said that Gibbs was hounding her to get back to work. What happened?"

"Well..." Tim broke off as the door opened and a doctor came in.

"Ah, Mr. McGee. I'm glad to see you awake at last. We were beginning to think you'd sleep the day away."

"I think I already have."

"You have a few hours yet," the doctor said, smiling. "We'll get you checked and then you may need to stay the night."

"Stay the night! I can't. I have to work!" Tim protested. "I feel fine."

"You don't look fine, Mr. McGee, and as your doctor, I have final say in the matter. We've scheduled an MRI to rule out tumors or epilepsy since neither are in your medical history."

"How long?" Tim asked.

"That depends. You seem quite alert and in command of your faculties. We'll give you a couple of neurological tests beyond the MRI to determine your mental functioning. If you pass, then you can go home, provided you don't stay alone in case of a recurrence. We'll go over your scan."

"And then?"

"Then, we'll figure out what happened to you and take whatever steps are necessary to treat it."

"So what are the possible diagnoses?" Tim asked, intently. He had no intention of waiting around while doctors discussed his condition.

"Well, here's the list, Mr. McGee: You could have a brain tumor, epilepsy, some sort of somatoform disorder, or in a related diagnosis, it could have been a psychogenic non-epileptic seizure, the cause of which may never be discovered."

"Oh." He swallowed. "When is the MRI?"

"In about an hour. We were ready to do it with you conscious or unconscious, but conscious is better since it gives me a chance to tell you what will be happening. Just relax and don't worry, Mr. McGee. Now, what's the last thing you remember?"

"Uh, I was walking back to NCIS with Abby. We'd been working all night and took a break for breakfast. Uh, there was a girl... running down the street towards us. She slipped and took us down with her. I helped Abby up... and... and then..."

"Then?"

"I don't... I don't remember. I remember helping Abby up, but after that... there's nothing."

"Oh, Tim." Sarah grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly.

"It's possible that you had just tired yourself out to too great an extent and your body rebelled. We'll still go through with the scan, but, after hearing your explanation, I think that it's more than likely that this was an isolated case."

"So, it won't happen again?" Tim asked hopefully.

"Probably not... _if_ my preliminary diagnosis is correct. I don't want to be definite until I have the tests to prove it."

"Fine, whatever it takes. I just want to get out of here."

"Tim doesn't like hospitals," Sarah explained.

"Well, enjoy your stay as much as you can."

"Right."

"Sarah, is it?"

"Yes?"

"Can I talk to you outside for a minute?"

"Of course." She gave a last glance at Tim, tinged with regret, and then walked out.

Tim leaned back in the bed. What _had_ happened? It didn't seem coincidental that his dream, lost time, and seizure all happened in the same 48-hour period. Maybe he was just strained. They had worked hard on a case, only to have their main suspect disappear, just before his arrest. It had been no end of frustration and Gibbs had run them all into the ground trying to find him. Now, there was this leak. Tim felt like he should be at NCIS helping out, trying to find out who the leak was. He was more convinced than ever that it was an employee at NCIS, as sick as the idea made him. At least he was the only one not working. Abby, Gibbs, Tony, and Ziva would probably track the leak down by tomorrow. They would if Gibbs had anything to say about it, that's for sure.


	7. It's Not Possible

**Chapter 6: It's Not Possible**

"You have something, Abby?" Gibbs said as he walked in. He was surprised that there was no music playing. Abby was staring at a very short list of names on her computer.

"I have a list of the people who could have accessed the information that was leaked, Gibbs. There are three. Just three who were involved in every single case and could have warned our suspects."

"Well? Who are they, Abby?"

"It's got to be a mistake, Gibbs! It can't be right!"

"Why?"

"Because the names are mine, Tim's and Ducky's."

Gibbs froze. "Are you sure?"

Abby turned and fixed him with her death glare. "Yes, I'm positive, but I must be wrong. I _know_ it's not me, and it couldn't have been Ducky either. And can you imagine Tim being a traitor? It's just not possible. I must have messed up somewhere. I've been trying to find the mistake for the last three hours."

"Three hours, Abbs?"

"Yes, Gibbs. I can _prove_ it wasn't me, but I can't prove it wasn't Ducky or McGee, except that I _know_ they couldn't have done it. They _wouldn't_. I don't know what to do about this Gibbs. I can't report this. How can I tell Ducky and Tim that I've put them under suspicion? It's Tony's murder accusation all over again." A tear slipped down Abby's cheek and she turned back to the computer.

"Abby," Gibbs said, gently. She didn't turn. "Abby!" He pulled her around to face him again. "Show me. Show me _exactly_ what you did to get this list."

Abby sniffed. "But Gibbs, you never want to know how we do things in here. You said it's a waste of time."

"Let me see what you did, Abby. If I'm going to clear three of the most important people in this building, I need to know why they need clearing in the first place. So, show me." Suiting actions to words, Gibbs sat down on the stool that Tim had been sitting on the previous day. Abby stared at him in surprise for a few seconds and then sat next to him and pulled up her original searches. It took more than hour just to retrace her steps with Gibbs because he really didn't understand much of what she had done, but he was insistent that she show him. He watched with increasing concern as he grasped each level of the search. Only one of the three cases had been investigated by his team, but Tim had been helping on the computer end in each of them. Abby did the forensics, of course, and Ducky did all the autopsies.

Then, Gibbs noticed something that both heartened him and made him dread what he was about to say. "Ducky couldn't be on this list, Abby."

"Why not?"

"Because of the case we investigated. Don't you remember? He got sick after the doing the autopsy on Lt. Michener and even checked into the hospital overnight. He wasn't here when we put the pieces together. He had no idea what was going on until we'd lost the suspect."

"You're right, Gibbs! Oh, that's great. I didn't want to tell Ducky that he was a suspected traitor." Gibbs watched as the elation drained from her face as she realized who was left. "No, Gibbs. It's not Tim. It _can't_ be. I _refuse_ to believe that Tim would betray us like that. It's not him!"

"I don't like it either, Abby, but we have to go with what we have."

"So what do we do then, Gibbs? We can't arrest him, can we?"

"I'll talk to Jenny, but what we do now is go over everything he has done here in the last six months. Every scrap of video we have of him. We try to prove that he isn't the one divulging test results, but quietly so no one knows, especially him."

More tears made tracks down Abby's cheeks and this time Gibbs pulled Abby into a hug. "We'll figure this out, Abby, because you're right. What you've found here is not something that McGee would do. We just need to find out who did."

"Thanks, Gibbs. I'll get started!"

"No, you won't. It's almost ten o'clock. You've been working all day. Tony and Ziva have left and you are going to do the same. Call McGee if you want to check on him, but go home and get some real sleep. That's an order, Abby. You can't help McGee if you're falling asleep on your keyboard. Not even a Caf-Pow will keep you awake after being up for almost 48 hours."

Abby gave a tearful chuckle. "Okay, Gibbs. You're the boss."

"I'm glad you noticed."

Gibbs watched Abby leave and then let his confident mask drop. Abby had been thorough, too thorough. Tim was the _only_ likely suspect. He prayed they'd find something to explain it, but right now, it looked as though they hadn't known Tim at all.


	8. You're Wrong

**Chapter 7: You're Wrong**

Tim woke up the next morning feeling out of sorts. He looked over and saw Sarah asleep on her half of the bed, just like she always was when she stayed over. It was just him that didn't seem to fit. It was probably just a side effect of his seizure. He'd passed the neurological tests and been allowed to go home. Now, he planned on heading back to work because he hated the idea of Abby doing all that searching without him. Sarah had class that day and she wouldn't be sticking around. He'd given his cell number to the hospital; he'd know if they found any anomalies in his MRI.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"This is not good."

"You don't have to tell me that."

"They're investigating a leak _and_ we're having problems with his personality."

"Well, what do you want to do? Do you want to terminate?"

"No. Not yet. We'll see what happens, but we'll tell Sarah to be ready to run. They don't see each other every day; so it won't be strange if she's not always around. He'll still report when necessary. You talked to Sarah, didn't you?"

"Yes, yesterday."

"Good. Then, she's been apprised of the situation?"

"Yes. What if they find the extra cell phone?"

"That will be a problem, then, won't it?"

"No need to get snide. I'm just worried about this blowing up in our faces. The people at NCIS aren't stupid."

"No, but they won't want to believe that Timothy McGee is a traitor, and neither will he. They'll do everything they can to prove otherwise, and it won't be until the very last moment that they'll give in to the inevitable."

"I hope you're right."

"Me too."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"McGee! You're back! Are you okay?" Abby asked. Tim thought she seemed unusually subdued but figured that she was just tired.

"Yeah, I'm fine. The doctors are checking my MRI, but everything seems okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. So, how far did you get yesterday? I'm sorry I couldn't be here."

"Well..." Abby seemed to hesitate.

"McGee, we need you upstairs!" Gibbs barked from the doorway.

"But, Boss, I don't want to leave Abby doing all that searching by herself, not two days in a row!"

"Upstairs, McGee."

"Yes, Boss." He looked back at Abby with a rueful expression. "Sorry, Abbs. Duty calls." He ran to the elevator. Once he was gone, Gibbs turned back to Abby.

"You came early and did a search, didn't you." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, Gibbs."

"And?"

"Two nights ago, he left the building and made a phone call. It was the night we stayed late to work on the computer codes." She turned to the computer and pulled up the surveillance footage. "See? He seems to fall asleep and then he wakes up and leaves for about five minutes."

"Where did he go?"

"Outside. He was only out there for a minute or two and then he came back and seemed to go right back to sleep." She turned off the screen with a vehement jab of her finger. "I've seen it, but I can't believe it. I can't believe that Tim would do this!"

"Well, I can't keep him out of interrogation anymore, not with this," Gibbs said. "I know how you feel, Abby, but even you have to admit that it doesn't look good."

As he started to leave, Abby grabbed his arm and said, "Neither did Tony's case, but it was all a plot to have him arrested. It _has_ to be the same for Tim. It _has_ to be!"

"I'll try my best, Abby." Gibbs couldn't tell her that his gut was telling him something else. He went upstairs and saw Tim typing away at his computer as he always was. Tony and Ziva were making snide comments about him tripping over his own feet or, in Tony's case, losing his balance at the sight of a pretty girl. Tim laughed good-naturedly and kept working. Gibbs hated to do this. He would put it off as long as possible. He could picture what would happen to Tim's face when he found out what was going on.

"McGee?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"Come with me."

"Yes, Boss." That trusting assent. Tim didn't hesitate to stand and follow Gibbs wherever he was leading him, and it killed Gibbs to know that he was possibly leading him to prison... or worse.

"Who's in interrogation?" Tim asked as he realized where they were going.

Gibbs stopped and turned around. He stared at Tim in complete silence.

For awhile, Tim just stared back, wondering what was happening, and then he asked, "What is it, Boss? What's wrong? Who's in there?"

"No one, yet, McGee."

"Then, why are we going there?" Gibbs watched carefully as the realization dawned on him. "You mean that I'm going to be the one in there. Why? What happened yesterday? What's going on, Boss?"

"You're the leak, McGee. That's what it looks like is going on right now." Gibbs turned around and started walking to the interrogation room again. He was unsurprised to hear Tim's footsteps continue to follow him.

"That's not true, Boss! It's not me! I've been working as hard as anyone else to find out who it was. Why do you think it's me?"

"Just get in the room and sit down." Tim had stopped at the doorway. "Please, Tim."

Tim looked in Gibbs' eyes and saw that he didn't like this anymore than Tim did. He finally nodded and stepped past Gibbs into the room. Gibbs went around to observation and watched as Tim stood inside the doorway. He looked frankly terrified. He was reacting exactly as Gibbs would have expected if Tim were innocent, but if he had managed to fool them all this whole time, he was already a much better actor than he had been given credit for. He looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time and then walked to the table. Gibbs watched as he sat down on the criminal side and winced. Tim knew how this was going to go, regardless of his guilt or innocence.

"Gibbs?"

"What are you doing here, Abby?" Gibbs asked, not turning from the window.

"I just remembered something else."

"What?"

"Remember all that trouble Tim was having with the polygraphs a few months ago?"

"I'm not going to like this, am I."

"No, Gibbs."

"Tell me." He still didn't turn, and Abby didn't approach him.

"I helped Tim fake it."

"How?"

"I-I jury-rigged his polygraph so that he could answer the questions without getting dinged."

"Abby..."

"You saw him, Gibbs. He couldn't even answer his own name without giving a false positive. ...at least that's how I saw it at the time. He didn't know that I did it. I just kept telling him that he'd have nothing to worry about. I thought you should know."

"Okay." It was looking worse and worse. "We may set up another polygraph. This time, if we do, I'll give it."

"What's going to happen, Gibbs?"

"I don't know, Abbs."

He heard her leave. Neither one had made any attempt at eye contact. He continued to watch Tim through the glass. He was sitting absolutely still, no fidgeting, no nothing. This was going to tear them all apart.


	9. Everything Is A Lie

**Chapter 8: Everything Is A Lie**

Tim looked at the glass. He knew Gibbs was on the other side of the mirror, watching him. He just couldn't figure out how he, of all people, could be a suspected traitor.

Tim stared at the part of the mirror he thought might be Gibbs' location. "It's not true, Gibbs. It's a mistake. It has to be. I wouldn't do this."

Gibbs watched for awhile and then left. There were things he needed to know before he went into that room and essentially ruined Tim's life. For the next few hours, he and Abby searched Tim's history. They didn't find what they were looking for, i.e. the life of Timothy McGee. Instead of the simple childhood, high school, and college life they had expected, they found, with a little extra investigation, that Tim really only began to exist in graduate school. The school photos from the places he had said he attended did not include him. College professors didn't remember him, not even vaguely. No one from his supposed hometown knew him. Tim didn't exist until about ten years ago. Abby had tears running down her cheeks, but she didn't say anything. Each new discovery was like a dagger. Tim wasn't Tim anymore, and she didn't know who he was. It was worse than when Kate died. At least Kate had still been Kate.

"I wish we'd never found this, Gibbs," Abby whispered.

"So do I," Gibbs said and then he found that he was not sad. He was furious, at himself for being taken in, but mostly at Tim for doing this to them all, for being a good enough actor to take them all in. He stood up and walked to interrogation. He slammed the door open and Tim, still sitting at the table, jumped.

"I pitied you, McGee, or whatever your name is. I really pitied you. I thought that we'd be able to clear it up because you are so obviously not a traitor. Now, it's all I can do to not tear you apart," Gibbs said. He slammed the folder on the table, wrenched the chair out and sat down.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Boss."

"Don't call me that. I don't know who your bosses are, but I want to know. _Right now!_"

"This is a mistake. It's not true. I'm not a traitor," Tim said, desperately. It was like a bad dream. His life was suddenly a circus. "Why do you think it's me?"

Gibbs turned on the television in the corner. "This for a start. Do you know when this was taken, McGee?"

Tim watched in shock as he saw himself stand up and walk outside. "When?" he asked.

"Two nights ago. Just after midnight."

"Th-that's impossible, Boss," Gibbs glared at him, "er, I mean, Gibbs. Abby and I worked until almost midnight and then fell asleep. We didn't wake up until four or five in the morning. That can't be right. It can't be me."

"Who do you think it is, then?"

Tim stood up and started shouting at Gibbs, "I don't know! What is going _on_? This is not possible!"

"Sit _down_, McGee!" Gibbs roared.

Tim sat down, chest heaving, panic written all over his face.

Gibbs sat down as well. "Maybe you'd like to explain this then." He shoved the file across the table. "Read it."

"Wh-what is it?"

"Read it!"

Tim opened the file and saw his life laid out, but with notices typed in the margins like, "does not exist" or "no record" or "invalid information." As he flipped through his life, he felt something in the back of his mind recoiling. He threw the file across the room. "That's not me! That's not me! It's not true!"

"Your life is a _lie_, McGee, and I want the _truth_."

"I'm _telling_ you the truth, Boss! You've got it all wrong. I don't know what you're doing, and I don't know why, but it's wrong!" Tim was standing again and shouting, panicked, nearly in tears and out of control. Everything was unraveling and he was trying desperately to stop it.

Gibbs stood as well and stormed out of the room. He walked into observation and saw Abby, Ziva and Tony lined up along the glass. They all looked at him with varying degrees of shock, anger and grief on their faces.

"What is this, Boss? When did this happen?" Tony asked. There was not a single shred of humor in his face now.

"I don't know, Tony, but I'm going to find out."

"This is extremely dangerous, Gibbs. What will happen when his employers find out that we know?" Ziva asked. She always seemed so cold and distant, but Gibbs could see her shock. She didn't want to believe it anymore than the rest of them.

"We have to find out who his employers are first."

"Gibbs?"

"What, Abby?"

"What about Sarah?"

Gibbs stopped.

"She's not in the records either. If Tim doesn't exist, neither does she."

"You're right, Abby. Tony, Ziva track her down."

Tony nodded and said, "On it, Boss." They left. Abby still stood at the glass.

"Abby?"

"Yes, Gibbs?"

"Do you really want to stay?"

Abby swallowed her tears and looked through the glass and Tim again. He had dropped his head to the table; so she couldn't see his face. The file and its contents still lay scattered on the floor, a testament to the last exchange. She wasn't sure she wanted to see another one. How could things have changed so quickly?

"Well?"

Finally, still staring at Tim, she shook her head. "No, Gibbs. I don't want to see this." She walked by him and went to her lab. Gibbs took her place at the glass and waited. He wasn't sure if he was waiting for himself to be ready to go in or if he was waiting for Tim to be ready.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim felt like his mind was in a whirlwind, twisting and destroying everything in its path. How could this be? He recognized Abby's work when he saw it. Abby had found this... or rather had _not_ found it. She wouldn't have done this on purpose and she would have been thorough. He winced as he thought of how she must be feeling right now. He didn't exist, but that wasn't possible because he had all the memories of his life and he was sitting at the table. Then, there was Sarah, his sister. What could explain these discrepancies? The file was still in the corner. He went over to it and knelt on the ground. For a few seconds, he stared at the papers; then, he bent over and began to pick them up without reading them.


	10. Sarah

**Chapter 9: Sarah**

Sarah looked out the window of the library. It was the best place to wait because no one really talked and no one really paid attention to anyone else. She had been warned, and now she was waiting for a sign that it was really all over. She tried to tell herself that it was for the best, that she was glad. If Tim had been discovered as a plant, then that meant she could go back to her life. And yet there was a niggling thought in the back of her mind: _what life?_ Sarah knew that she had little to look forward to but another assignment, another life to create and then destroy. She sighed. Tim had been such a good person. She hadn't known Thom, but his file had revealed a person who had been destroyed by life long before he had been destroyed by others. Very little could be gained by resurrecting him, by showing Tim who he used to be. She wished that he _was_ her brother.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Tony and Ziva. She smiled as she watched them enter the building. This was almost exactly the same place she'd been when she'd first met them all, at least officially. In reality, she knew more about Tim's team than he did. She knew she should call the bosses and tell them that there was imminent danger of discovery. She also knew that she could get away easily, but she found that she didn't want to escape; she didn't want to warn them. She had been Tim's sister for nearly a decade and she didn't want that to end. It would have to, but she didn't want to abandon him. Somewhere along the line, she had stopped pretending to care and started actually caring.

She looked at their uncommonly serious faces as Tony and Ziva approached. She smiled sadly and said, "Do you want to cuff me this time? It's not necessary because I won't run, but I can understand if you don't trust me anymore."

Tony and Ziva looked at each other. Sarah suddenly seemed a lot older than she had the last time they had seen her. "You know why we're here?"

"Yes. You must have found out about Thom."

"Thom? You mean, Tim?"

She blinked. "You mean, you don't know?"

"Know what?"

She jumped up. "We have to get to NCIS, fast. Call ahead to Gibbs and tell him that you can't let Tim answer his cell phone." When they didn't move, she moved closer to them and said, "Please, don't stand here and look dumb. I know you're not. Tim will die if you don't stop him."

"Why?"

"Stop asking questions, please." Real tears welled up in her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. "Tim may not be my real brother, but he's the brother I wish I had. I don't want him to die." She grabbed their arms and started to pull them along. Finally, they moved of their own accord. Sarah hitched her backpack onto her back and followed them to the car.

She watched nervously as Tony pulled out his cell phone while Ziva started driving. It was all going too slowly.

"Gibbs? We have Sarah. She says that you can't let McGee answer his cell phone or else he'll die."

"I already took his cell phone away, DiNozzo."

Tony looked over at Sarah and repeated Gibbs' words.

She raised her eyebrows. "Both of them?" At Tony's incredulous look, she rolled her eyes. "Please, Tony, if you can have a cell phone for secret work, why can't Tim?"

"How did you know?"

"We don't have time for this. I'll explain everything, but later!" Instead of waiting, she grabbed the phone from Tony's fingers. "Gibbs, this is Sarah. Well, that's not my real name, but that's not important right now."

"Not important?"

"No! It's not as important as saving Tim's life. He has a cell that he almost always keeps with him. It's how he reports and how he receives instructions. I don't know where it is, and neither does he."

"How is that possible?"

"Please, Gibbs. There is not much time. They could decide Tim is too dangerous to keep alive at any moment. If they call and give him the signal, he will kill himself without a thought. I _don't_ want that to happen. You need to go into interrogation and search him."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Gibbs, I know you feel betrayed, but it's not what you think it is. Tim doesn't deserve this. He _is_ innocent, just not in the way you're thinking. I'll explain it to you, but now is not the time."

More silence.

"Please, Gibbs. I don't want to lose my brother."

Silence. Then, a terse, "Fine." The phone disconnected.

Sarah handed the phone back to Tony and leaned back in the seat. She had done all she could. It was now up to Gibbs.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gibbs walked back down to interrogation. He didn't know what to think at the moment, but if Sarah was right, it didn't matter. He walked into the room. Tim stood up from the files, dropping them to the floor again, and backed away as Gibbs approached.

"Boss, please, I–" he stopped at Gibbs' expression.

"Where's the other cell phone?" he asked bluntly.

"What other phone? I only have the one you took from me." Tim didn't know what was going on. He kept backing away.

"Your other phone. You have two."

"No, Gibbs. I _don't_. I only have the one you..." Tim trailed off and his gaze went completely vacant. Gibbs heard the telltale sound of a phone on vibrator, but this was a pattern he didn't recognize. He watched as Tim reached down to the cuff of his pants, rolled it up and pulled a phone out of a holster around his leg. Before Gibbs could take it from him, he lifted it to his ear, still staring emptily at Gibbs. He listened for only a second before he dropped the phone and took a small capsule from his jacket pocket. He lifted it to his mouth, but finally Gibbs unfroze himself and lunged at Tim. Together, they crashed over the chair and to the floor; the capsule flew from Tim's hand. Except for the sounds of the struggle, the room was silent. Tim never said a word. He didn't even fight, really. All he was trying to do was follow the order given him. Gibbs tried to hold him back, but he was relentlessly attempting to crawl away from Gibbs' grip to get to the capsule. The two struggled for a few moments and after he took one look at Tim's empty eyes, Gibbs suddenly realized that he couldn't reason with Tim, couldn't simply restrain him. Without hesitation, he punched him hard on the jaw. Tim stopped struggling and dropped to the floor, his eyes slowly closing, one hand still stretched out toward the instrument of his death.

Gibbs stood painfully. That wasn't what he had expected. One of the technicians from observation came running in, gun drawn.

"It's okay. Everything is under control. ...now." Gibbs took a deep breath and waved the technician away. "I'm fine. Just watch him from the booth and call me immediately if he stirs." The tech nodded and withdrew while Gibbs bent over Tim's prone form. He handcuffed his hands behind his back and then set him on the floor in a more or less comfortable position. Then, he picked up the small pill and took it to Abby. Sarah obviously knew something about what was going on. _He_ needed to know more, a lot more.


	11. Confrontations With Reality

**Chapter 10: Confrontations with Reality**

Ziva and Tony led Sarah into the bullpen and sat her down on a chair to wait for Gibbs. As soon as she saw him get off the elevator, she asked, "Did you stop him? Is Tim okay?"

"He's fine for now," Gibbs said shortly. "You tell me. Did you know that Tim had a cyanide capsule in his pocket?"

Sarah blanched and then swore. "No! Absolutely not. I thought that he'd use a gun or his tie or something like that. I didn't know they'd actually given him the means to kill himself. You found the phone?"

"Not soon enough. I had to knock him out to stop him. Will he still be this way when he wakes up?"

Sarah shrugged. "I don't know. Probably not. The shutdown of his conscious mind will most likely be interpreted as successful completion of the kill command. I could be wrong though. The other times I've seen it happen, no one was there to stop the suicide."

"Except you," Tony said pointedly.

Sarah inclined her head in acceptance of the accusation. "You're right. I was there." She said nothing else.

"How old are you really?" Tony asked.

"Twenty-seven."

"How did you manage to look so young?" Ziva asked.

"Good cosmetics, a face that looks young naturally, and smart planning. You never questioned that I was under twenty-one did you?"

"No, but..."

"Never mind," Gibbs interrupted. "That's not important. Who are you really?"

"I'm not sure, Gibbs."

He noticed that she neither flinched from his stern gaze, nor appeared intimidated by it. _She_ was the actress, not Tim.

"What do you mean?"

"I've been doing this kind of thing for as long as I can remember. I am given an identity and I live as that person for a period of time. My job is to watch the plant to make sure everything goes according to plan."

"When did you start?"

"I was five when I was given my first assignment. It was simple. All I had to do was be the daughter of a man who worked in the Capitol. I knew he wasn't my real father, but that I had to treat him as such. He raised me for three years." Here, she looked away. So, she wasn't as emotionless as she seemed on the surface, rather like Ziva in that respect, Gibbs thought. "After him, I had a short vacation as, well, as a girl named Michaela." She smiled ruefully. "I went to Disneyland."

"And then?"

"My previous assignments are unimportant. All you need to know is that, except for Tim... and one other, they all ended in the death of the person I watched."

"Why not McGee then?"

"Because, he doesn't deserve it," she said and then flushed slightly, "and their plan backfired."

"In what way?"

"Instead of just pretending to be Tim's sister, I started wishing that I was."

"So, who is Tim?"

"Tim is who you think he is. _Exactly_ who you think he is. The correct question to ask is who _was_ Tim."

"Fine, who _was_ he?"

"Thom E. Gemcity."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Really."

"Yes, really. The pen name caused his creators quite a stir at the time. They toyed with the idea of suppressing the choice, but Tanner persuaded them to let him keep it."

"Tim is really Thom?" Tony asked in confusion.

"No. Tim _was_ Thom. Thom no longer exists, not really. Tim is who he thinks he is, although there have been some gaps."

"Explain."

"No," Sarah said simply.

"What?" Gibbs stood up, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

Sarah stood up as well and met Gibbs' gaze. "No. I won't just explain it to you. Tim is the one who really needs to hear this, although he won't believe it at first." She looked down. "He may not survive it. Thom may resurface and destroy Tim. I don't know if the two can coexist."

Ziva spoke for the first time. "You are speaking of McGee as if he were two different people."

"He is. In essence." She looked up at Gibbs again. "I need to speak to Tim. He's going to hate me and I'll probably lose my brother in any case, but as someone who has been his sister for years, I feel he deserves to hear it from me. You may listen if you like, but I need to speak to Tim."

"Tell me who you work for," Gibbs said.

"If I do?"

"You can speak to McGee."

Sarah shrugged again. "I work, or rather worked, for a shadow company. It doesn't have a scary secretive name like they show in the movies, but it does have people more ruthless than Hollywood would like to portray. They have so-called sleeper agents planted in every federal organization and in most of the major banks in the United States."

"Why?"

"To get information, of course. They conduct all sorts of missions to eliminate people or companies they feel are dangerous."

"Dangerous to whom?"

"Dangerous to the United States. They are patriots... at least in their own minds. They feel that the biggest dangers are found, not in the Middle East, not in China, but in our own backyards. Their goal is to stop those people."

"How do they decide who is dangerous?"

"By gathering information through people like Tim. People who often never know that they are revealing information about companies or agencies they think they are completely loyal to."

Everyone looked at Sarah with revulsion. Finally, for the first time, she appeared bothered by their opinion.

"Don't look at me like that! I know who Thom was and he was nearly dead anyway. You would never have met Tim without us. He wouldn't have existed! I'm not excusing what my former employers, and I myself, did, but in this case, it was a blessing. Thom died so that Tim could live."

No one responded.

"I told you what you wanted to know, Gibbs. Now, let me talk to my brother."

"Okay." Gibbs headed to the elevator. Sarah looked at Tony and Ziva and then followed, the other two trailing close behind. When they got to the floor, Gibbs looked at Tony and said, "Get Abby."

"Yes, Boss." Tony stayed on the elevator as the rest got off. He didn't relish the idea, but Abby deserved to know what was going on as well. Maybe they'd all understand.


	12. Who Am I? Really

**Chapter 11: Who Am I? Really.**

Gibbs went in first and took off Tim's handcuffs. He was awake and staring, but he wasn't trying to kill himself, which was an improvement. He didn't speak to Gibbs, only gave him a glance that indicated how deeply he felt betrayed, and Gibbs didn't speak to him. He just stood and walked out.

Left alone again, Tim stood up and looked around the room in confusion, obviously wondering how he had gotten into that position. He was about to sit down at the table when the door opened once more.

"Sarah! What are you doing here?" Tim ran to her and hugged her tightly. From their view on the other side of the glass, Sarah looked ready to break down in tears. "I'm so glad you _are_ here. I can't get anyone to believe me. It feels like I'm going crazy."

Sarah pulled away. "We have to talk, Tim."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Please, sit down." She went and sat at the table. After a moment, Tim did the same.

"What is it, Sarah?"

"First of all, I'm not really Sarah. I'm not really your sister. We don't really exist, you and I."

"What?" Tim straightened in his chair and scooted it away, just a little bit.

"That's not exactly true. You are who you think you are, but that only started ten years ago when you went to graduate school."

"Sarah..."

"Don't interrupt me. This is hard enough to explain as it is. Ten years ago, you were someone else, a different person. We..."

Tim wasn't sure where this was going, but he was getting a sudden feeling of dread at the words his sister was speaking. "Stop," he said fiercely.

"No. We found the person you used to be in New York City. We needed a plant, someone to place in NCIS."

"Stop," Tim said more urgently.

"I can't, Tim. Besides, you've known all the time. Remember those dreams you used to tell me?"

"No!"

Sarah continued relentlessly, "You said they were so vivid, almost like memories. Well, they _were_ memories. Those dreams are who you were."

Tim stood up and backed away, knocking over his chair. "I don't know why you're doing this, Sarah, but it's not funny."

Sarah stood as well. "I know it's not funny, Tim. It's tragic, but it's the truth. The night you were taken, around Christmas. The two men who were assigned to watch you saw the perfect opportunity. You were in a park, alone. It was snowing and dark and very few people were there, but just as they were ready to take you, a family cut through the park and talked to you. The father gave you $100 out of pity."

"No! I won't listen to this!" Tim shouted, but he heard it just the same.

"After the family left the park, they shot you with a dart and basically killed who you were."

"Then, who was I?" Tim asked. It was almost a challenge.

"Thomas Elton Gemcity, named for your father who died in a house fire, along with your mother."

Tim slid down the wall in shock. "No," he whispered. "It's not true."

"It is true, Tim. You used to be Thom E. Gemcity," she knelt beside him and spoke earnestly, "but you're not anymore. The memories you have didn't really happen, but you are still Timothy McGee."

Tim had put his clenched fists over his ears, like a child trying to ignore his parents. He was so tense that his entire body shook with the effort of blocking out Sarah's words.

"Tim, please, don't ignore what I'm saying. You need to understand because you actually did what they are accusing you of."

Proving that he still heard her, Tim lifted his head, his face pale, eyes full of shock, "NO!" he shouted as loudly as he could. He pushed Sarah away and stood up, trying to get as far from her as possible. "No! I wouldn't do that! Stop saying that I did! I would remember!"

"No, Tim, you wouldn't," Sarah corrected, raising her voice to be heard above Tim's fearful shouts. "You wouldn't remember anything because _they_ have complete control over you when they want it. They use you and then make you forget."

"No! That's not possible!"

"Do you know why you were handcuffed?"

The shift of topic was so sudden that Tim went silent.

Sarah turned to the window. "Gibbs, please get the techs to show what happened in here."

"Gibbs is watching?" Tim asked quietly.

"Of course, Tim. Where else would he be?"

"And Tony and Ziva?"

"And Abby too, I'd imagine. Everyone wants to understand."

"There's _nothing_ to under–" Tim stopped speaking as he watched himself on the screen; he watched another event of which he had no memory. "How? How are you doing this?"

"It's not me, Tim. There are blocks in your mind, but you can fight them. You just have to acknowledge that they are there!"

"No, no, this is just a, a dream, a nightmare," Tim said, his protests becoming weaker by the minute. He started to shake. "No."

"Yes, Tim," Sarah reached out hesitantly toward him and winced when he backed away from her hand.

Almost hyperventilating from the battle that was going on, as much in his mind as with Sarah, Tim asked, "What have I done then?"

"Anything they asked you to do."

"Like what?"

"You kept them apprised of various cases that touched their interests. You reported on anything that might bring their mission to light."

Still shaking, Tim backed further away from her. "So, I _am_ a traitor?"

"No. You didn't do any of it of your own free will. You were compelled."

Tim suddenly exploded, "You're telling me that I have given information from my cases to help keep someone from prison and you say that I'm _not_ a traitor? I've betrayed everything I believe in!"

"No! You haven't!" Sarah corrected, her voice tinged with desperation. She wasn't sure if everyone else could see what was happening, but she knew that Tim was closing in on a total breakdown. "_You_ were merely the means, the conduit to information."

"So I'm just like another computer?"

"No!"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the other side of the glass, six people stood motionless, watching the unfolding scene. Abby had long since thrown herself into Gibbs' arms and was only watching through her fingers, while Gibbs watched, seemingly impassively, but with a storm going on in his blue eyes. Tony and Ziva still stood facing the window, but they had surreptitiously moved close enough that their shoulders were touching, the contact a kind of silent reassurance of mutual support. Ducky and Palmer were frozen a few steps back. In the mysterious ways of gossip, they had heard of Tim's interrogation and come up to ask about it. They had taken only a step or two into the room before the view stopped them in their tracks. If it hadn't been happening in front of their eyes, none of them would have believed it was possible. To see it like this was awful and frightening.


	13. Internal Conflict, External Effects

**Chapter 12: Internal Conflict, External Effects**

Tim and Sarah were squared off on opposite sides of the table. Any step that Sarah took toward him was matched by an equal step away. The most recent shouting match had ebbed while both sides rested from the emotional turmoil.

Finally, Tim asked, "If I'm... Thom, then who are you? Who are you really?"

"I'm no one, Tim. I've been Sarah longer than I've ever been anyone. If I had a real identity before, I've long since forgotten it. I work for the people who did this to you, Tim, the people who...created you."

"Created..." Tim repeated softly.

"Yes, Tim. Created."

"Then, who is Thom?"

Sarah shook her head. "Thom is dead, Tim. He doesn't exist anymore."

Still shaking, whether with fear or anger, she wasn't sure, Tim said, "If I am Thom, then who is he?"

"You're _not_ Thom. Thom died on the night you were created. He doesn't exist anymore."

Just when she was sure she was getting through, Tim shook his head violently and shouted, "He _never_ existed! He's just a name! This is all a lie!" He turned to the mirror, his eyes crazed and wild. "All I see is Tim in the mirror! There's no one else! If I am Thom, then who is it I'm seeing?"

"It's still Tim. That's who you are now."

Tim shouted again, "I can't be two people! There can only be one of us!" Before Sarah could stop him he started punching the mirror, over and over again, trying to get rid of the other person. She ran over to him and tried to pull his hands away, but he seemed possessed of a superhuman strength and she might as well have been trying to stop a falling anvil as stop the torture he was inflicting on himself. His mind was fracturing because of the impossibility of the information she was giving him. He couldn't deny it, but he couldn't accept it either. The two lives currently inhabiting his body were in sharp conflict. He couldn't deal with it.

"Only one! Only one!" he shouted over and over, in time with his hits.

The door to interrogation flew open and Tony, Ziva and Gibbs all rushed in. They each grabbed Tim and pulled him forcibly away from the mirror which was now cracked and spattered with blood. Tim fought them all; his shouts had given way to inarticulate cries, almost bestial in their ferocity. It took the three of them to hold him down. Suddenly, he stopped struggling and went slack in their arms. They loosened their grip and then Tim started to shake violently.

"Let him go! He's having another seizure," Sarah shouted. She started to push the table out of the way and pull the chair away from Tim's convulsing body. Gibbs jumped up and helped while Tony and Ziva pulled back from Tim.

"Can't we do anything?" Tony asked.

Sarah, now crying, said, "No. We just have to wait for it to stop. Hopefully, he'll be okay."

"Hopefully?" Ziva asked, her eyes blazing.

"Yes," Sarah ignored Ziva's fury and crouched down just out of reach of Tim's flailing limbs.

Abby burst into the room. "You-you witch!" She shouted and threw herself at Sarah. There was less than a second of fighting before Sarah had flipped Abby onto the floor and pinned her. What amazed everyone was not only that she had been able to do it so quickly, but that she hadn't hurt Abby at all. She was just holding her firmly in place.

"I don't blame you for hating me, Abby, but this is not going to help matters." She kept the pressure on until Abby stopped trying to claw her eyes out; then, she stood and backed away, showing that she'd do no harm if Abby would do the same. She looked at Ziva again, continuing her conversation. "Hopefully, Tim'll be able to remember. This has never really been tried, not successfully anyway."

"And you're doing it now, because?" Abby spat.

"Because he'll be dead without this. You don't understand. You can't just quit. There's no allowance for a change of heart... or a change of mind. You're in until you die... or until they kill you," Sarah said.

Tim's seizure stopped as suddenly as it started and Sarah knelt down next to him, feeling for a pulse. She looked up at the mirror again. "Ducky? Are you in there? I think you should take a look at Tim."

Everyone stared at Sarah. She appeared to know a lot more about them all than they had thought. They were too used to thinking of her as a twenty-year-old. Even with the tears that still ran down her cheeks, all the innocence was gone from her face, leaving someone who looked very old, someone who had seen, and done, too much.

Gibbs looked at the mirror as well and nodded. In moments, Ducky was in the room. He knelt next to Sarah and checked Tim over. "Well, he's alive. We'll need to bandage up his hand; I'm amazed he didn't break any bones, but he'll need some stitches. He should be taken to a hospital anyway to make certain that he did not cause any internal damage during his seizure."

"He can't. You can't take him to a hospital!" Sarah said, sounding completely exasperated.

"And why not, young lady?"

"Do none of you get it? If you take him to a hospital you are going to put him in the hands of the very people I'm trying to save him from."

"Please, explain."

"How do you think my employers knew about Tim's lapse? How do you think they knew there were serious enough problems to warrant sending the kill command?" She turned to Abby who looked at her with loathing. "Do you remember the doctor at the hospital?"

"Of course."

"He's one of Tim's creators."

"What?" Abby shouted.

"They intercepted the 911 call and chose which hospital he was sent to, the one where Tanner works. I spoke to him while I was visiting Tim. They already _know_ what is going on."

Gibbs turned to Tony and said, "Go bring him in."

Quickly, Sarah protested, "You can't do that, Gibbs. Right now, they're working on the assumption that Tim is dead. If you send Tony to arrest Tanner, that will tip them off. You won't be able to hold him anyway. He's too well connected."

Gibbs looked unconvinced.

"What are you going to arrest him for, Gibbs? Treating Tim for a non-epileptic seizure? Being a doctor? You have _no_ evidence beyond my word... and how much do you trust _me_ anyway?"

"Boss?" Tony asked.

"Fine, we'll wait on Tanner for now. Ducky?"

"Well, if we are unable to take Timothy to a hospital, then he should at the very least be put in a bed somewhere. The floor of interrogation is not the best place for him to lay."

"Is he alright, Ducky?" Abby asked.

"I don't know, my dear. It will be a matter of waiting for him to wake up."

"We can take him to the lab," she suggested.

"Good. That is a much better location than the morgue," Ducky agreed. "Tony? Ziva? Abby? Could you give me a hand carrying him down there?"

Gibbs nodded to them and stared at Sarah as she made a move to follow.

"I won't go with them, Gibbs. If that's what you want." Before they lifted Tim up, she knelt by him once more and whispered into his ear. No one heard the words she said. "I know you won't believe me, but it hurt to have to do this to you. There's only one other person I've ever tried to help in this way. It didn't work. Please, Tim, you are such a good man. Don't let this destroy you like they destroyed Thom." Then, she stood and backed away, allowing the others to carry Tim from the room.

Gibbs and Sarah were left alone. They stared at each other in silence for a long while. To Gibbs, Sarah seemed older than he was, in terms of world experience. She wore the tattered remains of her life like a banner in her eyes. The wonder was that she had kept it hidden for so long, both from them and from Tim.

"We have things to talk about," he said.

"I know, Gibbs. There's a lot you need to know before they kill me," Sarah replied. She pulled the table back over and righted one of the chairs. Then, she sat down, facing Gibbs and asked, "What do you want to know?"


	14. Theater of the Mind

**Chapter 13: The Theater of the Mind**

In the days of radio, the theater of the mind was where the action took place during a show. The voices and sound effects created an image in the listeners' minds more vivid than a visual show could ever achieve. For Tim, the theater of the mind was the place he was trapped, among a swirl of conflicting memories, each set fighting for supremacy in a battle that had no happy ending, unless he could find a way to reconcile them.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"_Come with me, son." The doctor was trying to be kind to the young teenager sitting in the waiting room, his younger sister sleeping on his lap._

"_I'm _not_ your son." Behind the insolence was a strong undercurrent of fear._

"_Fine, what is your name?" He asked gently even though he could see the name tag still pinned to his shirt from some convention._

"_Thom."_

"_Come with me, Thom. There's something you need to do."_

"_What about Lizzie?" he asked, looking fearfully down at his sister._

"_She shouldn't come."_

_Thom nodded, suddenly much older than his fifteen years. He understood._

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Tim shivered fighting the memory that didn't square with his own.

Abby, sitting by him, took his hand and said, "Tim, please wake up. Please don't die."

----------------------------------------------------------------

"_Timmy?" He heard a hesitant voice from the doorway of his room. He couldn't turn very well because of the neck brace._

"_Hey, Sarah. Where're Mom and Dad?" he asked, trying to sound normal._

"_They're talking to the doctor."_

"_Are they mad at me for wrecking the car?"_

"_I don't think so. Not yet."_

_Tim smiled weakly. "Come over closer. I can't see you."_

"_Are you gonna be okay, Timmy?" Sarah finally came in view. She was scared of coming too close right now. She'd never seen anyone in a hospital before._

"_Of course. It will just take awhile."_

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Yes. I'm sure." He couldn't feel much pain right now, but there were a bunch of dull aches all over his body that he was sure he'd feel in time._

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What's happening to him, Ducky?" Abby asked.

"I wish I knew, Abigail. If Sarah is correct, then this is far beyond my purview."

"It's like the world has suddenly gone crazy."

"I am certain Timothy feels that way as well."

Abby tightened her grip on his hand as another shudder ran through Tim's body.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_It was for verification purposes only, the doctor had said, but that didn't matter. Thom knew he was about to identify his parents' bodies. He'd been invited to a special astronomy convention because he had won a contest held in his school district. One moment he was looking at displays about his favorite subject, the next he was on his way to look at his dead parents._

"_Right in here, Thom._" _The doctor hesitated at the doorway. "Are you sure there's no one else you can call?"_

"_I'm sure," Thom said, his voice cracking._

"_All right then." The doctor led him to two tables; they had bodies covered in long white sheets. A hand, charred and bloody slipped off the table and hung out from under the sheet._

_Thom whimpered and then walked to it. He picked up the hand, noticing the remnants of red sparkly polish on the nails. Lizzie had painted their mom's nails the day he left. He tried to hold back the tears, to be strong, but some escaped as the sheet was pulled back and he saw what remained of his mother. He still held her hand._

"_Thom?"_

"_It's her," he whispered._

"_One more, Thom, I'm sorry." The doctor pulled the sheet back over his mother's face._

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Is there anything we can do for him?" Ziva asked. She stood barely in the doorway.

Abby shrugged but didn't look away from Tim's face. "I don't know. Ducky said that he should have woke up by now. He's still out of it."

Ziva's shell cracked just a little. "Is there– Do you need anything?"

Abby looked up. She and Ziva still had a complicated relationship. They had never been completely comfortable in each other's company. She smiled. "When we find out who did this, you can kill him slowly over several days."

Ziva smiled, an expression which warred with her glistening eyes. "I can do that."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"_Oh, Timothy. What were you thinking?"_

"_Mom, I'm sorry." Against his will, tears pricked his eyes. Anything was worse than having his parents see him suffering for his stupidity. "I only looked down for a minute."_

"_It's okay, dear. I'm just so glad that you weren't killed. Does it hurt much?"_

_Tim smiled. "Not too bad. Doctor Wilson said that I won't be feeling anything." He looked at his dad who was still standing by the doorway. He hadn't spoken yet. "Dad? I'm sorry about the car."_

_Finally, his father moved toward him. Once he reached the bed, he pulled Tim into a hug, being careful not to disturb his leg or his neck. "Tim, I don't care about the car! I care about you."_

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"_What's going to happen to us now?" Thom asked._

"_Since you have no living relatives, you and Lizzie will have to go into foster care."_

"_No! I can take care of us both!" Thom said, flushing as his voice cracked again._

"_How, Thom? You are still in high school. Lizzie is only four years old."_

"_I dropped out so I could get a job." He ignored her dismay. "I'll earn enough money."_

_The social worker was kind, but firm. "Thom, you're a bright boy, but you can't support the both of you."_

_Thom finally nodded. "Where will we end up?"_

_The social worker looked distinctly uncomfortable. Thom realized that she had bad news._

"_What is it?"_

"_You won't be together, Thom."_

"_What?"_

"_We found a place for your sister, but they are not willing to take you in as well. Teenagers are much harder to place. I'm sorry."_

"_Sorry?" Thom stood, crying unashamedly now. "My parents just died! All Lizzie and I have is each other and now you're taking that away from us, too!"_

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"_Timmy? Did you hear me?"_

"_Yes, Sarah. I heard you."_

"_Can you come home?"_

"_Yes." Tim shook his head. It was so strange that everything had been going so well. He still felt the disconnect between his life before the phone rang and his life now. "Has the funeral been scheduled yet?"_

"_Aunt June is arranging things."_

"_Yes, I'm sure she is." That came out worse than he'd meant it to. June wasn't even related to them really, but she always was there for them, babysitting and the like. She was getting old too. It wouldn't be too much longer before she joined his parents._

"_Please come home, Timmy. I don't want to do this by myself."_

"_I'll come as soon as I can get a flight."_

"_Can you afford it?"_

"_No, but I'll manage. _We'll_ manage, Sarah."_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"_It's not me, Thom. It's so hard to find places to put siblings, and boys are just harder put in good families. If we take this chance from Lizzie, there may not be another. The family loved her from the moment they saw her. They'll probably adopt her."_

"_Why not me? Why am I left behind?"_

"_They said they can't afford to take in a teenaged boy."_

"_But I'm a good kid! I don't get into trouble! I don't even _eat_ very much!" Thom's voice cracked again._

"_I'm sorry, Thom," the social worker said sadly._

_Still crying, Thom shouted, "You're not sorry. If you really cared, you'd find a way. You'd do something. You said you'd do everything you could to find us a good place. _Both_ of us! You lied! You lied!" Thom turned and ran out of the office._

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim started shaking more violently. He was feverish and sweating.

"Ducky!"

"I don't know what to do for him, dear. I'm sorry."

Abby held Tim tightly in her arms. "This isn't fair!"

Suddenly, Tim sighed and went limp in her grip.

"Oh, no! What's wrong?"

Ducky leaned over Tim and took his pulse. "He's still alive, Abby. I think he might be actually sleeping now."

"Does that mean he's getting better?" she asked hopefully.

"I just don't know," Ducky admitted and stared at Tim's ashen pallor and wondered how much damage had already been done.


	15. Dead Woman Walking

**Chapter 14: Dead Woman Walking**

"What do you mean?" Gibbs asked as he sat down across from Sarah.

"I said before. No one leaves. They die. As soon as I gave myself up, I became a liability."

"Will they know?"

She raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Are you kidding? When they call my cell phone and I don't answer, they'll know. Maybe, just maybe, they'll check out my dorm and classrooms first, but I figure that there will be people gunning for me before sunset."

"You don't seem worried."

She smiled. "There's no sense in worrying about something you can't change."

"Is it worth it?"

"If Tim survives this, then yes. It is worth it."

"When did that happen?"

"What?

"When did you start to think of Tim that way?"

She smiled again. "I thought you wanted to know about the people I work for, not about my feminine emotions."

"I like to know who I'm grilling."

"Can't the vaunted Gibbs stare figure me out?"

"I don't know."

"Wow. That had to have hurt to admit."

"When?"

Sarah saw that he wasn't going to be put off and sighed. "I'm not sure exactly. It's been coming on for some time. I should have seen the danger at the beginning. Thom's protective nature survived the personality wipe. Tim has always wanted the best for me. It became obvious to me just this last year."

Gibbs thought about it and knew what event brought it on. "So was the whole murder case a test then?"

"No. It was all real." She paused and then added, "I wasn't faking those tears in this room before either."

"You seem well able to take care of yourself."

"I am, but I also never had the experience of interacting with sluts like those cheerleaders. The vindictiveness of popular girls was new for me."

"Did you really think you had killed him?"

"Yes. I've killed before, Gibbs. It was a distinct possibility in my mind, and I had become so used to being Sarah that the idea of killing someone was as abhorrent to me as it seemed. Then, when I saw how much Tim was willing to do to protect me and to help me, I realized that I really loved him. What kind of a life would that be? To be in a family? That's why I'm here. I saw Tony and Ziva pull up and I had an ample chance to get away. I stayed."

"So they'll try to kill you?"

"Yes, and eventually, they'll succeed."

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

"You don't have much say in this, Gibbs. I'm a moving target. You can't keep me in this building forever. So what else do you want to know?"

"Can you give names?"

"Some, not many, and I have no way of knowing if they are real names."

"How were you chosen?"

"I don't know." At his glance, she repeated, "I don't _know_, Gibbs. This is all I've ever done. For all I know, I could be like Tim, but if so, I've never had the problems that he has had."

"What problems?"

"Residual memories. He talks about his dreams all the time, to me and Abby at least. Like I told him, they aren't dreams; they're memories. Things have leaked from Thom to Tim: old jobs, old interests, some emotions. It's impossible to completely eliminate a personality. Something will always remain."

"How much?"

"It varies. It really depends on the life the person had before. How much they wanted that life."

"Give me an example."

"Okay. Do you remember about twelve years ago when Lisa Sarton committed suicide?"

"Sarton?"

"She was an intern to a big name senator from California. She gave valuable information on his less savory habits and enabled my employers to take him down."

"I remember. What went wrong?"

"She was a prostitute before we took her. There were just too many loose ends in her history and people recognized her. She started to question her own life and was headed for a breakdown anyway. Tanner sent the kill command and she died."

"What about Tim?"

"Thom, from all appearances, was completely miserable. His life was going nowhere and he knew it. He had nothing to look forward to, no home, no family, nothing. He'd dropped out of high school to take care of his sister, but the foster care system took her away from him. He ran away to New York when they were going to put him somewhere else. He was living on the street. However, his memories are particularly intense. That's why Tim has the dreams. Thom is still in there, somewhat."

"What were you hoping to accomplish?"

"One of the things that Tanner does is put compulsions in the plants' heads that will force them to call and report. After the calls, whether they make them or receive them, they are made to forget. It's easy to do because the plant doesn't know that he's been manipulated. What I wanted to do was preserve Tim's personality while making him aware of what happened to him."

"Why?"

"So that he won't be their tool anymore, so that he won't be subject to their commands. I wanted him to be able to keep on as himself."

"Will it work?"

"I don't know."

"You said before that except for one other person, every assignment ended with the death of the plant. What about that other person?"

"I should have known you'd remember that."

"I have a good memory."

"When you don't have amnesia."

He didn't even bother dignifying her dig with a response.

"I messed up once. I was still young enough to have a measure of innocence and naivety."

"And?"

"I was another person's daughter. I loved her. She was a sweet woman, and I thought if I told her what was going on that she could do it as herself and I could stay with her for always." She shrugged, but her nonchalance was obviously feigned. "I was young. I was wrong."

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know. She disappeared."

"Don't you think they just killed her?"

"No, I don't. No one has found her body. Blaser, my other main contact, doesn't waste time trying to cover the deaths. There are enough unsolved murders in this country that it's silly to pretend a death hasn't occurred."

"Why did they choose you to do this now?"

"I'm not sure. I guess I'm just good at my job. I helped create Tim's life and I know every detail. I also know quite a bit about each of you."

"So, what now?"

"Now? We wait. It's up to Tim. I've done the best I can to start him out. We'll have to see if he can win. If Tim can beat it, then we can take the next step."

"Which is?"

"Stopping the main players."

"Why the sudden about-face? Do you feel no loyalty to them?"

"Of course I feel some loyalty to them, but not enough to give Tim up to them."

"One more question for now."

"Yes?"

"What about Thom Gemcity?"

"What about him?"

"Are there any traces of him?"

"Oh, yes. If you know where to look."

"Can you help us out?"

"Why?"

"If Tim wakes up and wants to know who he was, he'll find it on his own or with our help. Wouldn't it be better to have us around for that?"

"I'll make a list."

"Thank you." Gibbs stood and left Sarah sitting at the table. She seemed to feel no concern about her own life or about the things she'd done in the past. She only seemed to come alive when Tim was concerned. He had no idea what to do with her.


	16. Mental Flashes

**Chapter 15: Mental Flashes**

Tim opened his eyes and for a moment felt like he was looking incorrectly at one of those 3-D pictures. Gradually, the image resolved into a single view. His mind was too cluttered; memories of two lifetimes were circulating, scrambling for dominance, for supremacy. He was... he was Timothy McGee, but not completely. Thomas Gemcity's memories were in his head too. More importantly, Thom's _core,_ his _self_ was there as well. It wasn't like being two separate people, not exactly. It felt like he _was_ two different people at the same time, all rolled up in one body, but none of this was understood consciously as yet. He just knew something was wrong in his mind.

"Tim? Can you hear me?"

Pain stabbed through his brain as he struggled to place the voice within his memory. He closed his eyes again until the pain ebbed. "Abby? Is that right?" his own voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yes, Tim! Ducky! He's awake."

The shouting hurt. He felt like he was hearing everything twice, processing it all twice. He wasn't just himself anymore. He was someone else, too.

"Timothy?" A less harsh, more mellow voice intruded on his mental turmoil. "Just nod if you can hear me."

Tim nodded very slightly, his eyes still tightly closed.

"How are you feeling?"

How could he explain? There were no words available to describe the physical and mental agony he was going through.

"Tim?" There was that voice again. It was softer this time, but still too loud. There were still too many things in his head. He couldn't sort through them all.

"Give him a moment, Abigail," Ducky said. He seemed to be talking from a great distance and he sounded worried.

"Th-there's... too much," he gasped weakly.

"Too much of what, Timothy?"

Tim risked opening his eyes again. They met Ducky's concerned gaze and then roamed over to Abby's equally concerned face. "I'm... I'm Tim, I think."

Abby reached out and grabbed his hand. "Of course, you are."

"No," he whispered. "Too much."

Ducky nodded. "Abigail, I think you'd better go."

Abby's eyes filled with tears at the apparent rejection.

"There's more going on here than you or I understand, and right now, I need to act as his doctor; otherwise, I would leave you two together. I think Timothy needs more quiet. Alright, my dear?"

"Okay, Ducky." Abby squeezed Tim's hand once more and then left.

"Timothy, I cannot pretend to understand how you are feeling. I don't even understand what is going on, but can we focus on your physical health for awhile?"

"Yes," Tim answered. "There's only one body."

Ducky tried not to show his concern and, indeed, his fear for Tim's answers. There appeared to be some sort of disconnect in his mind, and psychology degree or not, Ducky did not feel qualified to help him.

"How do you feel?"

"Awful."

"Any physical pain?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

Tim considered. It gave him a measure of relief to think only about his physical body rather than his tortured psyche.

"I'm sore all over. My muscles are tight."

"That would be from the seizure, I'm sure."

"Seizure?"

"We'll get to that later. Anywhere else?"

"My hand." Tim lifted it and was surprised to see it bandaged. "What happened?"

"Well, if you must know, you punched a mirror."

"I did?"

"Yes."

"My head..." Tim trailed off. He wasn't sure if the pain there was due to his mind or due to his brain. "There's something wrong, isn't there?"

"Yes, Timothy, but I am not at all certain what at this point."

Tim pushed himself slowly into a sitting position. As he did so there was a flash...

"_Mom! Mom! I won! I'm going to New York!"_

...and another flash...

"_Happy birthday, Tim!"_

"_Dad, you're kidding! A Camaro, for me?"_

Tim unconsciously rammed the palms of his hands into his temples and made a small cry.

"Timothy!"

"There's something wrong!" Tim said. "Everything is... dislocated... wrong! I can't..." he panted, "I can't do this!"

Ducky laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Just keep breathing, Timothy. Focus on that, nothing else. Don't try to make sense of whatever is going on. Breathe in... breathe out."

Tim's gasps continued unabated for a few seconds, but gradually, they slowed. He began to breathe in time with Ducky's repeated instructions.

"Good, Timothy. Good. Once more. Breathe in... breathe out..."

Although his breathing was considerably calmer, his mind still roiled with chaos. "There are things in my head that don't belong there, Ducky. I don't know why."

"Nor do I, I'm sorry to say. You have stumped me. Well and truly."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I'm not doing my job."

Tim smiled painfully and joked, "Well, I'm not dead yet, Ducky. I don't need an autopsy." He laughed weakly and then winced as another jab of memory flashed across his mind.

"_What happened, Thom? Where's Mommy and Daddy?"_

"_Lizzie..."_

Another conflicting flash...

"_Sarah, don't worry. We'll be okay."_

"_I miss them, Timmy. I miss them so much."_

When he came back to the real world, Tim was doubled over and noticed that he had ruined another pair of Ducky's shoes.

"Sorry, Ducky."

"It's not the first time, Timothy," Ducky said, smiling kindly.

"Maybe I don't need an autopsy, but a lobotomy might be nice." Tim laughed, but he was crying at the same time. "I-I don't know what's happening to me."

"At the risk of sending you into another tailspin, do you remember what happened in interrogation?"

"Gibbs... Gibbs said I was a traitor." The memories of that recent betrayal cleared his mind and forced some of the more insistent fragments into the background. He straightened up a little. "Then, S-Sarah came. She said I had done all those things. She..." he trailed off as Sarah's words came back. "She said I-I was someone else."

Flash...

"_Please, just give me a chance!"_

"_I'm sorry, but I don't hire homeless kids."_

Flash...

"_This has got to be the most boring job in the world, Dad."_

"_Be glad you have it, Tim. Lots of people would kill for a good job like that."_

"Aaaah!" Tim shouted as the memories clashed once more and the pain brought his fists to his head again.

"What is it, Timothy? What happened?" Ducky asked in concern.

"I keep... seeing things... things I know didn't happen!" Tim moaned. "It hurts!" He doubled over again in pain. Ducky put his arm around Tim's shoulders, supporting him.

"Abby!" Ducky called urgently. She was in the room in a second, wrinkling her nose a little at the vomit currently gracing her floor. "Stay with him. I need to speak with Gibbs and Sarah."

"Of course, Ducky." Abby took his vacated spot next to Tim and put her head on his shoulder. Tim hardly seemed to notice, so intent was he on his pain.

Flash...

"_Hey! That's mine. Give it back!" Thom screamed, pinned though he was against the alley wall._

"_Not anymore, you little pansy. This place is for grownups, not wussy little boys." The man went through Thom's bag and seemed disappointed by the lack of valuable articles there._

"_Leave it alone!" _

_One of the men holding him slapped his face. Another punched him in the gut and he sagged in their grip._

"_Let him go. This one has nothing."_

_Bereft of the restraining hands, Thom slid down the wall to the street, holding his stomach and groaning._

"_You have nothing, kid. You're a waste of time."_

Flash...

"_They called me a geek, Dad!" Tim cried._

"_And what did you do?"_

"_I tried to fight back, but they pushed me into the lockers."_

"_Why?"_

_Tim sniffed angrily. "Because they can! Because they hate me! I hate being smart!"_

_His father took his chin firmly in his hand. "_Never_ say that again. Not ever, understand? Being smart is a great asset and someday people will appreciate it, maybe not everyone, but the important people will."_

The memories started crowding in and he couldn't stop them. He had a flash of fighting in a dark street, a flash of dodging his way through the hallways, a flash of family dinner, a flash of picking through a garbage can. He screamed wordlessly and the real world faded away, leaving him with the overwhelming memories. Eventually, his conscious mind, overloaded as it was, gave up and shut down, leaving him falling into darkness, gratefully.


	17. Too Many People Inside

**Chapter 16: Too Many People Inside**

Tim felt the tears on his face and realized he was crying. When had that started? He also became aware of the fact that he was no longer sitting up but was laying on his back again. Ducky was leaning over him and he noticed everyone else was hovering as well. All of them looked concerned. What was going on? He started to sit up, but felt unaccountably weak.

"What's going on, Ducky?" he asked and was surprised by how soft his voice sounded. "Did I have another seizure?" He couldn't figure out why everyone looked so... scared. It was fear in their faces, not just concern. What were they afraid of? It was laughable that it should be him. Tim knew himself to be the least likely to hurt another human being of probably every member of NCIS, including Abby.

"In a manner of speaking, Timothy."

"What does that mean?" His gaze flicked back and forth between Ducky... and Gibbs. There was something he had missed or had lost. He could feel it. Something very important. "What just happened? Why are you all looking at me like that?"

Tim looked at Gibbs again, but could have sworn that he avoided making eye contact. That, in and of itself, was odd. Gibbs was never afraid to look someone in the eye.

But instead of speaking to Tim, who felt he had something to say, he looked back at everyone else and fixed them with that stare that had shaken more than one unconquerable will. Without a word, all but Sarah, who strangely had not flinched Tim noticed, left the room. All who remained numbered three: Tim himself, Sarah and Gibbs.

"What is going on, Gibbs?" Tim asked again.

Sarah, seemingly ignoring the question, said, "I told you this would be difficult. I don't know where to start again, Gibbs. I really don't."

Gibbs spoke to Sarah, not Tim. "Ducky said the memories were too much. Leave them aside for now. Focus on the manipulation itself."

Tim looked from one to the other, an undercurrent of fear worming its way into his brain. "What are you talking about?"

"Tim, do you remember today's date?"

"Of course. It's April 12th. Why?"

Sarah took a deep breath as if steeling herself to tell him bad news. "Tim, do you remember searching for the traitor in NCIS?"

"Yes, but how did you know about it? I never told you."

"Never mind that for now." She stared right into his eyes, and something in her gaze held him fast. She was Sarah... but not. "You _are _the traitor."

"What?!" Tim sat up quickly, ignoring the lightheadedness that accompanied the sudden movement.

"You didn't do it knowingly or willingly, Tim. You must believe me. You did it under duress."

"How do you know this?" There was a small part of his brain that was hammering to be heard, but Tim found that he didn't want to know what it had to tell him.

"About ten years ago, your mind was wiped and you were made an accomplice to a shadow group who have been responsible for a number of murders and corporate takedowns over the years."

"That's not possible. I was in graduate school ten years ago."

"They put you there on purpose to set you up to join NCIS. One of the things they did was put a compulsion in your mind, a suggestion if you will, to report to them on anything that was out of the ordinary, anything that might affect them."

"How? How do I not know? I don't remember doing any of that," Tim protested. So far, he was holding together, but this was, unfortunately, the most bearable part of what they had to tell him.

"Along with the compulsion to report, they also put in a compulsion to make you forget that you had ever done so. They didn't want someone who would be actively working against NCIS, just someone who would be above suspicion."

"Why me? How could they know that I'd do all that for them?"

Sarah looked at Gibbs. She didn't know if she wanted to go through that again.

"I don't know how they chose you, initially," she said, taking shelter in a half-truth.

Tim still didn't have the energy to do much moving around, but his mind caught on the tone of Sarah's statements. "How do _you_ know all this, Sarah? You would have only been about ten years old when this started."

"Um..." She cast a desperate glance at Gibbs.

"Wait here for a moment, McGee," he said and gestured to Sarah to follow him.

"Okay," Tim agreed, his voice heavily-laced with confusion.

Sarah pulled the door to the lab closed behind them, but it didn't latch. Tim stayed sitting. He went back over the conversation in his head and noticed all the answers that had _not_ been given. He had asked many questions that had been passed over. There was something more going on here than a seizure, even more than the questionable story that he was an unwilling traitor.

"He's forgotten everything that happened today, Gibbs. It's his mind's way of surviving."

Tim perked up at the words he heard leaking through the door.

"So? What do we do?"

"I don't know. I am reluctant to tell him I'm not really his sister again."

_What?_ Tim thought.

"He deserves to know what was done to him."

"Even if it kills him? Even if he can't accept it and it destroys his mind? Is it worth it?"

_They're talking about me, but why?_

"What do you think Tim would say? Would he want to know?"

There was a sigh. "Yes. He'd want to know all about Thom and who he had been. I just don't know if this is a good idea anymore. Ducky thought he was going to die."

_Thom?_ _Thom Gemcity. There was something about that,_ Tim thought, his mind beginning to whirl again.

"You said yourself that they can still control him if he isn't aware of the manipulation."

_Who is they? _Tim wondered. Another thought, more disturbing, intruded on his consciousness: _Who am I?_

Then, there was a mental flash so intense that Tim passed out. It was too much for his battered mind to take and he shut down, but this time, the residual of Thom, long dormant and not complete, asserted itself. In the vacuum of consciousness, the personality that was left filled the resulting void. It wouldn't, couldn't, last very long. He was more of an intruder in Tim's head than Tim had felt he was.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Where am I? What happened?" Thom said aloud. He was aware of the incredible wrongness of his situation. Somehow, he knew he shouldn't be here, that he was dead. He remembered being told that he was dead. And yet, he was manifestly alive. That didn't seem like a contradiction for some reason.

"Tim?" A woman, dressed very strangely, came running into the lab. "I heard you shout. Are you okay?"

"Where's Lizzie?" he asked. Then, his memories caught up with him. He wasn't anywhere near Lizzie and never could be.

"Lizzie? Who's Lizzie, Tim?"

Thom looked at her in fear. She kept calling him by a name that frightened him. He didn't know why, but it did. He couldn't settle on any one thing. His mind kept settling on the worst memories of his life. All he could do was hang onto the one person who was still of value, the one good thing he remembered.

"Where's Lizzie?" he screamed. Before she could answer him, a chance glance at the darkened glass revealed a stranger.

There was another flash and the personality that was Thom flickered and died with another scream.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Tim! Tim! Wake up!"

"...Abby..." The single word took almost all his strength to get out as Tim became himself again. He was on the floor, not the futon. He couldn't even stir himself to move.

He became conscious of Abby's close proximity. She had lifted his head and put it on her lap.

"Abby... it hurts. It hurts to think," Tim whimpered in a voice that was more of an exhalation than a tone.

She cradled his head. "Oh, Tim, I'm so sorry. Ducky should be back here soon."

"Where's Sarah?"

The loathing in Abby's voice when she answered could not be missed. "I don't know and I don't care."

"Whatever is... happening to me is not her fault, Abby," he said as forcefully as he could.

"I won't argue with you right now, Tim, because I know I'd win, but I won't pretend that I want her anywhere near you."

"Timothy, you should be on the bed, not almost under it!" Ducky exclaimed as he entered the room. "Help me lift him, please, Abigail."

As gently as they could, the two maneuvered Tim back onto the futon. Then, Abby's phone rang. She looked over at it with obvious reluctance.

"Oh, answer it, Abigail," Ducky said. "You do still have a job in this building."

"You're right, Ducky." Abby stood and walked to her phone. "Hello? _Who_ is here to see me? Janene?"

Then, she was distracted as Tim shouted weakly and began to seize again. "Tell her I'm busy at the moment. She should try again later!" Then, she threw down the phone and ran over. "What happened, Ducky?"

"I don't know! He was fine and then this." After only a few minutes, Tim's seizure passed and he flopped limply on the futon, breathing shallowly, his heart racing. "He can't take many more of these seizures, Abigail. They are causing too much trauma to his body."

"What can we do, Ducky? We don't even know what is causing them."

"Actually, we do know," a voice corrected. The two turned from Tim to the door and saw Sarah standing there looking at Tim's haggard face with sadness.

"Then, what is it?" Abby said rudely. She was angry with Sarah for more than one reason: she had pitied Sarah during the murder case and felt she had been taken in, and then Sarah was the only representative of the people who had caused this damage to her closest friend.

Sarah appeared to ignore the rudeness. "It's his mind trying to cope with the conflicting memories. The seizures occur when the coping is too much."

"What would overload his memory like this?" Ducky asked, with much less rancor.

"That I'm _not_ sure of. It would have to be a strong memory, one that leads to such conflict in his mind that he can't face it. What happened just before this seizure?"

"Nothing!" Abby said. "We put him back on the futon and then I got a call about Janene from downstairs."

Tim made a soft sound and seized again. These weren't flailing tonic-clonic seizures, but his entire body became rigid, every muscle tensing.

"Abby, come out here please," Sarah said, politely.

"Why?"

"I need to ask you some questions, and I don't want to trigger another seizure. Do you?" she challenged.

"No." Abby stood and followed, leaving Tim in Ducky's capable but helpless hands. Tim relaxed a couple of minutes later and Ducky realized that he had unconsciously taken Tim's hand and was rubbing it hopefully.

"I always said that I would never want to do another autopsy on someone I know, Timothy, but even less do I wish to watch someone die who is in my care. Do you hear me, Timothy? I will not accept that you are just going to die without us understanding what is happening to you, without us being able to help you."

The still form made no response, but his breathing deepened. Ducky sat silently, alone with his charge, and simply watched in silence. No stories, no trivia, just the presence of one concerned for a friend.


	18. Triggers

**Chapter 17: Triggers**

As soon as the door to the office was closed, Sarah rounded on Abby. "First, before we discuss important things, I have a request."

"What's that?" Abby asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Sarah took a deep breath. "You are _not_ the only person here who cares about Tim."

"I know that!"

"I'm not talking about NCIS personnel and you know it. I'm talking about me. I wouldn't be here if I didn't care about him."

"I never said that I didn't believe you," Abby said. At least her mouth said that. Her tone and her eyes conveyed a very different message.

"That is the very thing I'm talking about. We can't help Tim if you continually put your own resentment ahead of his health." She saw Abby taking another breath. "Don't interrupt me!" She pointed vigorously toward Tim. "Tim is lying in your office on your futon, possibly dying! Do you understand that? Do you _get_ it, Abby? I don't care if you hate me. Hate me all you want. Wish death on me. I've dealt with much worse and I couldn't care less about how you feel. The only thing I care about is helping Tim. If you're willing to do that, then I need your help. If not, please, get out of my way or the next time you come at me, I won't just gently set you on the floor!"

Abby held Sarah's gaze and saw her intensity reflected in her eyes. There was more there as well. There was sadness and evidence of hopelessness as well. She meant every word she said.

"Well?" Sarah asked.

Some of the animosity faded. In reality, Abby knew that she couldn't, in good conscience, keep placing all the blame on Sarah. She was right.

"Okay," she agreed softly.

Sarah sighed in relief. "Good. Now, who is Janene?" She sat down on a nearby stool. Abby did the same and related the details of what had happened the day before.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What has he done?" Ziva asked in confusion. "Oh, I see. He is dead." She looked over at Tony and saw him roll his eyes. What did one say in this situation? "I am sorry for your loss. Thank you for your time." She hung up the phone and glared at Tony across the bullpen. "Why could she not have said that he was dead instead of passed away?"

"Wow, Ziva. Could you be any more callous?"

"Yes, I think I could be. I did not celebrate that one of McGee's teachers died last year. I said I was sorry. What more should I say to a complete stranger?"

Tony shook his head. "Never mind," he said as someone picked up on his phone. "Hello, may I speak to," he consulted the list in front of him, "Maryanne Line? Thank you, I'll hold." He looked at Ziva and commented, "Line? What kind of a last name is that?"

"A short one," Ziva said, grinning.

"Right. Yes, yes. I'm still here. Thank you for taking the time, Ms. Line. Okay, then, Mrs. Line." He rolled his eyes again. "Yes, I needed to ask you about someone you would have had in a science class about sixteen years ago."

Tony winced at the terse voice. She sounded like too many of his own teachers. "I've had a goodly number of students over the years, young man. To expect me to remember each one is not realistic."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Line. I just need to see."

"All right. All right. What's the student's name?"

"Thomas Gemcity," Tony answered, not holding out much hope and was surprised when the old teacher's tone did a complete reversal from annoyed to hopeful.

"Oh, young Thom? Of course, I remember him. He was such a delight, never satisfied with doing just the required work. Astronomy was his passion. I knew he was going to go far..." she trailed off and sighed.

"Yes, Mrs. Line?"

"His parents died. Tragic. His father got his sister, Elizabeth, out of the house, but he went back in to get Thom's mother. Neither of them made it out once the gas line blew. Tragic."

"Where was Thom?" Tony asked, interested in spite of himself. Ziva was looking at him with curiosity.

"He was at a convention. He did the most wonderful project on the evolution of stars, complete with the Hertzsprung-Russell diagram. He figured out the values all by himself and wrote a program to fine-tune the calculations. He won first prize and was awarded an all-expenses paid trip to New York City. He came back here from New York on the night his parents died. He never came back to school. I found out later that he had dropped out. I think the poor boy thought he could single-handedly keep his family together. He was wrong..."

"What happened?"

"He disappeared. He ran away. Lizzie was adopted by her foster family. They moved years ago."

"Do you have any photos of Thom, Mrs. Line?"

Suddenly, the old teacher was suspicious. "Why do you need them, young man? Where did you say you were from again?"

"I'm with NCIS in Washington, D.C."

"And what is that, pray tell?"

"It's like the FBI, only for the military."

"Have you found Thom or do you think he's a criminal? Because I can tell you here and now that Thomas would never do anything against the law. He was such a sweet boy." She sighed again.

"Mrs. Line, I promise we're not accusing Thom of anything. We just are trying to verify some background information."

"Then, yes, I do have some photos of his project and when he won. Every student got his picture taken. I always used his project as an example for other students to aspire to. What's your fax number?"

Tony was surprised that someone as old as Mrs. Line sounded even knew what a fax machine was. She could tell.

"I may be old, young man, but the saying that an old dog can't learn new tricks is a great disservice to the old dog."

Chagrined, Tony gave the number and finally hung up, promising that if Thom asked about her, he'd give her number.

"Well?" Ziva said.

"High school teacher of Thom Gemcity's. She loved him and couldn't stop talking about him. She's faxing some photos."

"She remembered him then? As Thom?"

"Yes. Told me the whole tragic story, accompanied by many sorrowful sighs," Tony said, demonstrating.

"And?"

He sobered. "Thom Gemcity's parents died when their gas line blew, leaving Thom and a little sister, Elizabeth, behind."

"These people kept some things pretty similar did they not?"

"Yeah, younger sister, dead parents, geek."

"Geek?"

"Yes. _Mrs._ Line said that Thom was an astronomy nut and an over-achiever."

"I guess that would be difficult to create."

"Maybe." Tony shrugged off his discomfort at finding evidence this crazy alternate universe he'd somehow stepped into was real. "What have you found?"

"Well, of the people who are still alive, I have found similar information to you. He was a good student, quiet, unassuming. He was voted," she looked at her notes, "'Most Likely To Work For NASA' in his junior high school." Her litany was interrupted by the fax machine kicking on. Tony walked over to it and took the photos Mrs. Line had sent.

His voice shook when he started talking, although he quickly controlled it. "It's McGee alright. He's a lot younger, but it's McGee." He handed them to Ziva.

"Then, this is all true." Her computer beeped a sign that she had an email. She clicked on the new message and then opened the attachment. "I have the obituaries of Thom Gemcity's parents, Thomas Benjamin and Liza Elton Gemcity." She scanned the document as Tony hovered. "Died in 1993. Cause of the fire undetermined, but the cause of death was immolation. Survived by children, Thomas and Elizabeth." She scrolled down and came to the family picture. Somehow, this was the hardest thing for Tony and Ziva to look at because it showed beyond all doubt that Tim had indeed been someone else. He had been part of a family. Ziva sent the document to the printer. Then, she cleared her throat and asked, "Have you found the social worker?"

Tony straightened and walked back to his desk with a slow, deliberate stride. "No. I called social services in that area, but she quit a year or two after McGee, I mean, Thom would have been there. I have to have a court order before they'll release his files to me."

"Well, what are you waiting for, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked. His demand lacked its usual briskness, but his head slap felt exactly the same.

"The judge, Boss," Tony answered, rubbing his head absently. "I put in a request, but there's some sort of delay."

"Well? What have you found?"

"Thom Gemcity is... was a real person, Gibbs," Ziva said. "I have his parents' obituaries and family pictures." She looked at her computer as it beeped at her again. "And an article about Thom's disappearance."

"Of his teachers who are still alive, I got good reports of Thom from them all. One sent me pictures of a high school project. Another sent a class picture from elementary school. No personal photos. They must have all been destroyed in the house fire."

"Okay. I want you and Ziva to stakeout Tanner. I have a feeling we might need him available eventually."

"Didn't Sarah tell us _not_ to do that, Gibbs?" Ziva mentioned.

"Yes, she did."

"Well, won't he get suspicious if he notices us?" Tony asked.

"Then, you had better not get noticed. Go to the hospital and follow him home. Check in if anything happens. Otherwise, just keep tabs on him."

"How's McGee?"

"Not good," Gibbs said impassively. He didn't elaborate.

"Okay, Boss." Tony gathered his stuff and followed Ziva to the elevator.

After they left, Gibbs sat down at his own desk and went through the material that Tony and Ziva had found on Thomas Gemcity. It all stopped in 1993 after he had run away, of course. Now that he had accepted that Thom actually had existed, Gibbs looked at the data and shook his head. Thom had had everything going for him it seemed. He was incredibly smart and had skipped a couple of grades. His family loved him. He wasn't the most popular kid in school but neither was he a pariah. Then, it had all been taken from him. He had gone from on top of the world to lower than the dust in an instant. These were strong memories and not happy ones. Gibbs picked up the phone, ready to call in some favors to find the social worker who had handled Thom's and Lizzie's case.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sarah stood up and paced back and forth. "Do you think this Janene will come again?"

Abby shrugged. Very little of this had made sense to her, but she was trying to reign in her annoyance. "I don't know. If she has time, probably. Why?"

"I think that, against all probability, Janene is the same little girl that Thom saw in the park just before he died. I'll need to talk to her to know for certain, but that would explain Tim's seizure before. Did the mother say Janene's name at all?"

"Yes, just before she helped me up. She asked if we were all okay."

"That was his last memory and it wasn't completely sad, but it was probably intensely emotional for him. Hearing her name must trigger the memory and force the conflict."

"Why would that memory be stronger than the others?"

"Taking someone whose life is pretty good and trying to destroy the personality is difficult. People don't like to let go of happy memories. Those are treasured whereas sad memories are gladly discarded. Thom had a wealth of sad memories that he would have been more than happy to lose, but that last memory wasn't sad. From the report of his... kidnaping, the family treated him like a human being. The father gave him $100 and shook his hand. Thom was only about twenty when this happened. He'd spent his teenage years living on the streets. Having someone speak to him and look him in the eye must have been like a breath of fresh air. He wouldn't have been as willing to let it go, but that memory is tied to all the sad memories that came before." Sarah stopped speaking and stared off into the distance.

"What?"

"Who knows what he remembers from after," she said softly. "What if Thom felt himself being taken apart?" Her face paled. "I always took Tanner at his word when he said they didn't know what happened, but how could he know?" She turned to Abby and suddenly looked as young as they had all thought she was. "How could he know whether or not the people he killed felt themselves dying?" She was horrified at the sudden thought.

"Haven't you ever thought about this before?"

"Could you have?" she asked. "Could you have questioned the people who controlled your life and your identity? I had to believe that they were doing what was best. It's only recently that I started to think that this wasn't the right way to achieve their goals. It was only because of who I became and who Tim is."

"You never said anything to them?"

She laughed derisively. "Abby, I've already signed my own death warrant just by not reporting in. These people don't take questions lightly."

"I..." Abby started.

"No. Don't offer me sympathetic platitudes. All I want is to be sure that Tim will get through this. After that..." she looked away again. "I've seen enough for more than one lifetime. I just want it all to be over."

Abby didn't respond. She didn't know what to say. Sarah had just as good as admitted that she wanted to die. That was completely different from Abby's desire to tear her limb from limb before. This was a woman without hope. Without really even thinking about it, she threw herself at Sarah and hugged her tightly. Sarah stood stiffly in her embrace, her eyes revealing her shock. When Abby didn't immediately pull away, she relaxed into the embrace and put her head on Abby's shoulder. She didn't cry, but there was a deep sigh as her arms wound around Abby's back, both lending and receiving strength.


	19. A Real Meeting?

**Chapter 18: A Real Meeting?**

It was hours later, nearly midnight. Gibbs was still sitting at his desk, thinking over the interview he'd just had with Thom's social worker, Katie Jackson. She had moved to California from Connecticut. That meant that she wasn't angry with him for calling her so early.

"_This is Special Agent Gibbs of NCIS in Washington DC. May I speak to Katie Jackson?"_

"_This is Katie. How can I help you?" She had sounded understandably nervous. No one liked to hear from the authorities._

"_I have some questions to ask you. Do you have time?"_

"_Yes, my husband is putting the kids to bed. What do you need?"_

"_I need to know about a boy named Thomas Elton Gemcity and his case which I understand you worked on."_

_There had been a pained silence on the other end of the line._

"_Why do you need to know, Agent Gibbs?" she had finally asked._

"_It would take too long to explain, Ms. Jackson. Can you answer some questions about him?"_

"_Call me Katie, please. I suppose so."_

"_You don't sound too excited about this."_

"_I'm not," she said honestly. "Thom is the reason I quit my job as a social worker."_

"_Tell me about what happened."_

_There was a long sigh. "Please understand, Agent Gibbs: I was new to the job. I didn't understand how bad things could be. I was trying my best, but sometimes, especially in that field, one's best isn't good enough. Nothing is."_

"_I'm not looking to blame anyone, Katie. I just need information."_

"_Okay," she said, obviously steeling herself to tell a painful story. "Thom and Lizzie, his sister, were given to me after their parents died. It's the worst possible situation because they had no relatives, no one to take them in after the fire. I-I promised Thom that I'd do everything in my power to find a good home for he and Lizzie. I thought I could do anything, and I truly believed that I could find them a new family. I was wrong."_

"_What happened?"_

"_Thom had changed after his parents died. That's understandable, of course. Who wouldn't? However, he'd had it worse than most."_

"_Why?"_

"_He had to identify his parents' bodies after the fire, just to verify that no one else had been in the house."_

"_He was what, fourteen?" Gibbs was appalled._

"_Fifteen. I don't know who decided that was so vital that they had to force a boy just beginning to accept the loss of his parents to see their burned corpses." She sounded bitter. "I didn't know about it until after the funeral. Before his parents died, Thom had been sweet, fun, well-liked. He didn't win popularity contests, but he didn't have enemies because of his kind nature. Afterwards... well, he became withdrawn. He didn't get into trouble, but he stopped going to school. He became strongly attached to Lizzie. She was the only family he had left." She stopped, her voice becoming choked with tears, even after all that time._

_Gibbs heard a muffled voice in the background: "What's wrong, hon? Is it your mother?"_

"_No, no. I'm fine. I'll tell you later." He heard a deep breath and then she resumed. "I betrayed him, Agent Gibbs, him and Lizzie. I found a few families who had been interested, but they all looked at Thom, his sullen countenance, and they stopped being interested. Lizzie had bounced back quite well, but Thom... I don't think he ever got over seeing his parents. The one time he really opened up to me, he said that he still woke up in the morning feeling his mother's burned hand in his. He still had dreams of their charred faces. Then, I found the Lukes. They seemed ideal: a young couple, no children of their own, energetic. I brought them and introduced them to Lizzie." Gibbs could hear the smile in her voice. "She was such a charmer. Thom had been somewhere else, and when he came in, Lizzie ran over to him and dragged him to the Lukes. They were polite, but when they spoke to me, they said that while they loved Lizzie, they could not _afford_ to take in a troubled teen. I panicked. I admit that. I was beginning to see that I may not be able to keep my promise."_

"_And?" Gibbs asked when she didn't continue._

"_And I told Thom that I had found a family for Lizzie, but that they didn't want him. In those days, I thought _honesty_ would make everything better. Thom reacted about as well as anyone could expect. I found out that he'd been trying to get a job, that he'd been finding a way to keep he and Lizzie together. He had trusted me, but he didn't want to rely on me. He was incredibly independent and driven. He wouldn't accept that there was nothing he could do. I persuaded him that he'd be hurting Lizzie to keep her from being adopted by the Lukes. I thought I could be detached, but the image of his face. I've never been able to forget it. It was worse than tears. He was crying, but he looked at me in the way that I imagine Caesar must have looked at Brutus. I can still hear him yelling at me, calling me a liar, saying that I was tearing his family apart. He ran out of the office before I could stop him and never came back. I started a search for him, but he was gone. No trace of him was ever found."_

"_Lizzie?"_

"_She was adopted. She asked for Thom a lot in the beginning, but the Lukes were so adept at shifting topics that I doubt she even remembers him as more than another adult from her past. Eventually, she'll want to know, I'm sure, but so far, you're the first person who has asked me about Thom. I'm probably the only person who still remembers him."_

"_You quit working?"_

"_Yes. I tried to keep at it. Everyone told me that things got better, that you adjusted to not always being able to win, that you became calloused. I couldn't callous. Every child's tears, every wail was a reflection of my betrayal of Thom's trust. It was tearing me apart. I quit the next year." She laughed quietly. "It even drove me across the country."_

"_I'm sorry to bring this up again."_

"_It's alright. I suppose it's my penance. Why _are_ you asking about Thom?" A note of hope and not a little fear came into her voice. "Did you find him?"_

_Gibbs wondered how he could explain any of what was going on to this poor woman that wouldn't leave her still blaming herself or thinking he was nuts. He settled for company policy in light of his lack of alternate inspiration._

"_I can't explain, Katie. It's part of an ongoing case."_

"_Well, if you have seen him, and will again, please tell him that I'm so sorry."_

"_I'll do that, if I can."_

"_Thank you, Agent Gibbs."_

"_Thank you, Katie. I apologize for interrupting your evening."_

"_No worries. If you have any other questions, feel free to call."_

"_I will."_

Now, Gibbs pondered what to do next. Tim was still unconscious. Sarah was in danger of being killed. Then, of course, there was NCIS itself. Jenny had been uncommonly understanding, but she had her own set of problems. He knew that they'd have to resolve this sooner or later... with evidence of what was going on beyond Tim's breakdown which could simply be explained away as insanity. Abruptly, he made a decision. He picked up his phone and called Tony.

"DiNozzo."

"Tony, anything exciting happening?"

Tony yawned. "Nope, not a thing besides the fact that Ziva snores." There was a sudden pained exhalation and when Tony resumed speaking, he sounded a bit winded. "Tanner left the hospital and went directly to his house. He's been in there ever since."

"Asleep?"

"No. He's been on the phone and his computer since he got home. He shouted at his wife once. I think she was telling him to stop working."

"Okay, you guys come in."

"What? I thought we were supposed to be watching the guy."

"We need a meeting."

"Wow, Boss. You're calling a formal meeting? Can it be a campfire?"

Gibbs didn't bother answering. He hung up and then called down to Abby and Ducky in the lab.

"Yes, Gibbs?" Abby answered.

"I want you and Sarah and Ducky up here in an hour."

"But what about Tim?"

"If he's awake, then we'll deal with that, but otherwise, he probably shouldn't be in on this meeting."

"A meeting? An actual, formal, organized meeting, Gibbs? Wow." Abby dropped the playful tone and added, "I don't know if you can get Ducky away from Tim. He's been right by him since the last seizure. He might say no."

Gibbs just repeated shortly, "One hour." He hung up. They needed to collate all the information they had and figure out what to do. This was about Tim. Tim was the most important part of it, but it was also about a group of dangerous people who would apparently do anything to avoid detection.


	20. Move It

**Chapter 19: Move It**

"Ducky, Gibbs said an hour. It's been an hour," Abby said. She touched Ducky on the shoulder, trying to urge him to stand.

"I'm sorry, Abigail. I will have nothing to add, and Timothy may awaken. I will not leave him here alone." Ducky spoke kindly but firmly. He made no move to abandon his chosen post.

Abby nodded and left to follow Sarah to the elevator.

"I never got the sense from Tim that he and Ducky were all that close. Did I miss something?" Sarah asked.

"They're not. I don't know why Ducky is acting like this, but I've seen that expression on his face before. No one could change his mind, except maybe Gibbs...and maybe not even him."

The two women entered the bullpen and saw Tony trying to pull Ziva's chair around her desk to do a campfire. Ziva was resisting for all she was worth. Gibbs was letting it happen because he knew it for what it was: an attempt to bring things back to normal even when both parties knew it was impossible.

"Tony, we can speak just as easily from our desks!" Ziva said through gritted teeth.

"It's easier this way. Come on, Ziva. We haven't had a campfire in ages!" Tony wheedled.

"For a very good reason. No!" She wrenched her chair out of his grasp, sat down and wedged her feet under her desk. When Tony made a further attempt to move the chair, she jabbed him in the stomach. Then, the two of them seemed to realize that they had company. They looked sideways at Sarah and Abby and then at Gibbs.

"Finished?" he asked.

"Yes, Boss," Tony said quickly, rubbing his stomach. He winced, expecting a head slap, but Gibbs did nothing more than sit down at his desk, a sure sign that many things were wrong. Sarah sat at Tim's desk while Abby took her seat _on_ Tim's desk. For a few moments, no one said a word. Gibbs simply looked around at each of them, appraising them, weighing and measuring his options.

Then, his gaze focused on Sarah. "If we take Tanner, how long will it be before the others realize we have him?"

He saw the protest rise and then fade in her eyes. Then her expression became carefully blanked. Sarah was too used to pretending to feel other emotions than her own. It was easy for her to disguise herself.

"It depends on how you do it."

"Best case scenario."

"You take him either in the middle of the night, without arrest, or right as he leaves for work in the morning. You search him and prevent him from contacting his... wife or his lawyer or anyone. One phone call will result in him being released before you can get him to the building... or else killed."

"Wait," Tony protested. "I got the impression from you that he was one of the main people."

"He is, but no one... except maybe Blaser is immune from being eliminated. The mission is bigger than any one member and there is redundancy built into the structure for that very reason."

"So that they can kill off stragglers?" Tony asked.

"Well, among other things. Tanner will be either a target or out of your hands only hours after you take him. Remember, these people have been around for a long time. They know how it works."

"Would Blaser be a better bet?"

"I doubt it... even if you could find him. You wouldn't be able to hold him at all. What would you charge him with?"

"Okay, so, what can you tell us about Tanner that we can't get from a regular file?" Gibbs asked, taking over again.

"Well, he's completely devoted to the project. He believes in what he does."

"Destroying personalities?" Ziva asked.

"No, saving the country. He believes that this is the only way. Why he feels that way, I don't know. He does treat the people with respect, and..." she trailed off uncertainly.

"What?" Gibbs asked.

"I was about to say that I don't think he likes what he does, but I'm not sure what to point to that would indicate that." Sarah stood up and started pacing. It was as if she wasn't used to talking things out... which she probably wasn't. "There's something... I'm not sure what." She continued to pace.

"Could Tanner help Tim with his memories?"

Sarah stopped pacing. "I don't know. He could remove the blocks if he had his equipment, maybe without it. I don't know exactly how the process works."

"Would he?" Ziva asked.

She stared at Ziva as if the idea had never occurred to her. "That's it! That's why."

"What?"

"When he was retraining Tim's mind. It took six months to completely wipe Thom and create Tim."

"Why is that?"

"One of the things they do is accelerated education. It involves both the implantation of memories and personality, and learning. We needed a computer expert, a near-genius. Thom was already quite smart and would have gone far if he'd been able to continue on the track he'd had before his parents died. The innate intelligence was there; what Tanner did was expand on it and add to it. When only a personality is needed, the process is much shorter. Anyway, I was stationed at the lab after three months of training so I could continue becoming familiar with Tim's life. I would sit next to Tim and talk to him..."

Tony interrupted. "Why? Was he conscious?"

There was a brief shadow on Sarah's face which only Abby understood. "No, probably not, but even people in comas have had some familiarity with people who sat near them. It was a way to make Tim's mind used to me even if he wouldn't consciously realize it. One night, I went to the, uh, room," Sarah hesitated over the word, and everyone realized it was a euphemism, "thinking I'd talk to him a little bit, but Tanner was there. He was just standing over Tim's body, watching him. I was about to leave, and I heard him sigh. He said that he was sorry. I don't know if he was apologizing to Thom or to Tim, but it was the first time I'd ever seen Tanner express any emotion beyond satisfaction and curiosity. He might have gotten over it, but maybe he still feels guilty."

"Would he talk to you?" Gibbs asked.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Me? Maybe in order to spit in my face. I'm a traitor, aren't I? I went against the people who have used me for more than twenty years. He might be curious enough to talk to Tim though. Maybe if you dangled that possibility as a carrot."

"We'll see. Meanwhile, we need to figure out how to get access to Tanner for the maximum amount of time."

Without even thinking about it, the others moved their chairs out from behind their desks and held an undeclared campfire. Not even Tony commented on it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim opened his eyes very slowly. The light was dim. It was quiet. Blessed silence! Movement didn't even cross his mind. All he wanted was to lay still and not think. Then, he realized that one of his hands was in someone else's. He turned his head microscopically.

"Ducky," he whispered and started to shift.

The man's face went from vacant contemplation to engaged concern. "Timothy! No, don't try to move. Just relax. You've had a busy day."

Tim smiled weakly. "Where..."

"You're still in Abby's lab, Timothy. Just lay still. How are you feeling?"

"Hurts."

"Your head?"

Tim just nodded slightly.

"Don't think about it, Timothy. Don't worry about who you are or what is happening."

"Too much..."

"Don't focus on it. Let it lie."

Tim sighed and closed his eyes again. He was surprised that Ducky wasn't babbling about some story or another, but he was glad of the silence. Neither man spoke or moved. After a while, Tim opened his eyes again. There was something very mundane and yet very necessary that had come on him.

"Ducky?"

"Yes, Timothy?" Ducky watched as Tim flushed. "What is it?"

Tim rolled his eyes at his own reticence. "I need to, uh..."

Ducky's eyes widened in sudden understanding. "Oh, yes. That would be a problem, wouldn't it? Do you feel up to standing?"

Tim hitched one shoulder. "No other choice."

"Actually, there are a few choices..."

Tim shook his head, more violently than he had intended. "No bed pan."

Ducky tried not to smile. "All right then, Timothy, let's see how far we can get you. Ready?"

Tim nodded and tried to help Ducky as he pulled him, first into a sitting position, and then to his feet. Tim swayed dangerously and then leaned heavily on Ducky.

"I'm... dizzy."

"That's to be expected after all this time laying around. We'll take it slowly."

Awkwardly, the two men negotiated the distance to the nearest men's room. When they reached it, Tim pushed himself gently from Ducky's grasp.

"Are you sure you're steady enough, Timothy?"

Tim wasn't, but he _was_ sure that he wasn't going to have Ducky standing right next to him. He had some pride left... although not very much, he thought.

Ducky saw in Tim's face that, steady or not, Tim didn't want that much help. "Alright, then, Timothy, I'll wait out here, but you yell out if you need some help, regardless of your level of decency. Understand?"

"Yes." Tim took a step and swayed again as he reached the door. Ducky was behind him immediately. "I'm okay," he said. Once he got inside, he finished his business as quickly as possible. As he washed his hands, he chanced a glance into the mirror and recoiled. That couldn't be his face in the mirror. It was pale and drawn. His eyes were bloodshot and looked tormented. He had looked like this once before, a long time ago, in another life, in a place like this...

Flash...

_Thom flew across the restroom and crashed into the paper towel dispenser._

"_You don't own nothing, kid. Everything in this neighborhood belongs to me."_

_Feebly, Thom tried to stand up, ignoring the stars flashing in his eyes. "No, that's mine," he protested as the man started to walk out of the room with a cheap charm bracelet in his hand. He pulled himself up, using the sink as a lever. As he did so, he caught his reflection. If he hadn't been so determined to keep his only possession, he'd have been shocked at how much he had changed in the last few months. No one would ever recognize this pale shadow for the brilliant teen he'd been before._

"_Mine now," the man said and didn't even turn around._

_Something inside of Thom snapped. He forgot that he was only sixteen, that this man probably had more experience than he'd ever had. All he knew was that he was going to lose his mother's bracelet. He threw himself at the man's back and knocked him to the ground. He scrabbled for the bracelet and was owner of it again for a few precious seconds. Then, the man recovered, grabbed Thom in a headlock and dragged him out the back door. Thom was thrown against a dumpster, and as he lay dazed and stunned on the ground, he tasted blood in his mouth._

"_What did you think you'd prove, kid? You're weak. You won't last a day. Run home to mommy and daddy."_

_That taunt was enough to drive Thom to his feet again, but this time, the man was ready. He picked up a broken pipe and swung it around as Thom approached. The crack of bone was painfully audible to both parties. Not content to leave Thom screaming in agony in the alley, he picked him up and tossed him into the dumpster._

"_Thanks for the gift, kid," was the last thing Thom heard through a haze of pain. He didn't have the strength to get out of the dumpster. It was too high and he was too weak. For a long time, he couldn't even think through the agony coursing through his leg. This dumpster had been missed by the city sanitation for a few weeks, having been pushed into the space between buildings. Thus, the garbage in there was rotted to a greater degree than usual and was a haven for every creeping, crawling, oozing bug in the world. _

_By morning, Thom was covered in maggots and rot. He cried. For the first time since he had run from the social worker, he cried. He sobbed endless tears. That was what saved him. A garbage man, looking for the missing dumpster, heard him crying and pulled him out. He spent some time in traction at a local clinic. Once the kind nurses had started to talk about putting him in a home or in foster care, however, he had run away again, leaving only a thank-you note written on a napkin. These adults were nice, but not trustworthy. No adult had done him a good turn since his parents. He could only rely on himself._

The memory ended and Tim came back to himself. The pain wasn't so bad this time, but he had still thrown up in the sink, and Ducky was keeping him from falling all the way to the floor.

"Maggots..." he said weakly as he tried to stand up again.

"What?" Ducky asked, distracted by the effort of keeping Tim off the floor.

"Ziva wanted to know..." Tim breathed deeply and continued, "...why I didn't like maggots." He laughed a little manically. "It was Thom that didn't like them."

"What do you mean?" Ducky turned Tim to face him, but Tim wasn't really seeing.

Tim laughed again, more wildly. "Thom spent the night in a dumpster, maggots crawling all over him. That's where the scars came from! That's where the fear came from!" Again, another laugh, bordering on hysteria. "I told her it was personal, but I didn't know, Ducky. I didn't know why." Tim was not on the verge of a seizure, but he _was_ on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "It was _Thom_! He's still in my head and he's still me!"

Ducky shook him until he stopped talking, stopped laughing. "Timothy, stop! Stop doing this to yourself!"

For a moment, Tim's wild eyes focused on Ducky and he said, "I can't stop it, Ducky. It's all there. It's all right there." He tore from Ducky's grasp and, leaning heavily on the sink, pointed at his reflection. "That's what Thom looked like, Ducky! I look like him now! What if I become him?"

Ducky grabbed him again and spun him around, away from the mirror. "You have a choice, Timothy! You _always_ have a choice! I know this is hard for you, that you don't know how to accept what has been done, but you must. You don't have to reject the existence of Thom in order to remain yourself. You simply have to choose who you are."

Tim actually seemed to listen this time. His eyes closed tightly and Ducky thought that he'd lost him again, but then, Tim shook his head and opened his eyes again. They were clear, but he was obviously still in distress.

"I don't know if I can keep it up, Ducky. I don't understand how this happened," he said, panting slightly. "Where is everyone?"

"Having a meeting upstairs."

"I need to know what's going on," Tim said, his intention obvious.

"I don't know if that's a good idea..."

"I don't care. I need to know what they know. I need to be in on what they have."

Ducky could see that Tim was determined. He nodded reluctantly. "Alright, Timothy. Let's go."

Tim leaned on Ducky with relief and they headed through the darkened hallways to the elevator.

Flash...

"_Thom is dead now..."_

Tim stumbled and grabbed his head. Ducky slowed down.

Pushing the pain away, Tim straightened again. "I'm okay. Let's keep going."

Ducky nodded and they continued on their way.


	21. The Lure of the Mind

**Chapter 20: The Lure of the Mind**

"So, we'll get him early this morning," Tony was saying as the elevator doors opened.

They all went silent at the sight that greeted them. They had expected Ducky. They had not expected Tim as well, looking like death warmed over.

"Tim, what are you..." Sarah began.

Tim grimaced and held his head, but cleared it and interrupted, "I need to know what's going on." He paused and winced again. "It's my sanity on the line."

Tony stood up and rolled his chair toward the pair. "Have a seat, Probie."

"Thanks, Tony," Tim said as he sank into the chair.

"Are you sure you're up for this, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Tim looked at Gibbs. "Do you trust me again, Boss?"

Gibbs held his gaze; Tim's eyes were haunted and full of pain, but he was still the same man he'd been before. "Yes, I trust you, McGee."

"Then, I need to be here." He winced again. "I think I can hold it together."

Gibbs watched him for a moment longer and then nodded. Turning back to the group at large, he continued, "We have to assume that we'll have Tanner for a couple of hours at the most."

"And that he'll be aware of that fact as well," Sarah added.

"We need to see what we can get from him in that time."

"What do we have to offer?" Tim asked. Everyone's eyes moved to him. He was leaning heavily on the arm of the chair, still holding his head.

"What do you mean?" Abby asked.

Looking as though it weighed a ton, Tim slowly lifted his head. "If he knows that we can't hold him, then why would he help us? He could just as easily stay silent. We have to have something to give him that he wants."

"Sarah thinks he might want to talk to you," Tony said.

"Why?"

"Because, well..." Tony trailed off, not knowing how to put it.

"Because he's your creator," Sarah said bluntly. "He never saw you conscious. He'd probably be curious to see you."

Tim noticeably tensed at the word _creator_, and everyone held their breath, expecting another seizure. There were audible sighs of relief as he slowly relaxed and then nodded in acceptance of the term.

"I'm willing," he said and then dropped his head to his hands again.

Gibbs took over again. "DiNozzo, David, stake out his home again. Take him right when he comes out and bring him in. Call ahead so we can be ready."

"Wonderful. Four more hours stuck in a car with DiNozzo," Ziva groaned as she wheeled her chair back to her desk.

"Just don't snore this time," Tony said.

"I do not snore, Tony."

"Yeah, right. I suppose it was just trucks downshifting on the highway making all that noise."

Ziva pulled out a rubber band, bent it around her fingers and then let it fly. It hit Tony right between the eyes.

"Ow! Hey!"

"Just be glad that I did not use my knife instead, Tony," Ziva warned. "I am as accurate with my knife as I am with that piece of rubber."

Tony picked up his bag, still rubbing the reddening welt on his face, and said, "Yeah, yeah."

Ziva followed him, but just before getting on the elevator, she turned back to the group and said, "If I come in alone, it is because I followed my better instincts and killed him."

"Hurry it up, Officer David. We have a car to sit in...just the two of us." His voice became suggestive. The last view the rest of the team had before the doors closed was of Tony pretending to feel Ziva up and Ziva grabbing one of his fingers and using it to twist his arm behind his back.

"It will be a few hours before they get back... if they don't kill each other. The rest of you might as well get some sleep," Gibbs said. For a moment, no one moved; then, Tim stood up very slowly. Abby and Sarah took a step toward him.

He shook his head. "I need to be alone for awhile... as alone as I can be anyway." He gave a humorless smile and went to the elevator.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was dark... well as dark as DC ever was. That meant that one or two of the brightest stars were visible: Sirius, Rigel, even Polaris, if one knew where to look. Tim knew. He had come to the roof, hardly even noticing his choice of destination. Even those few stars reminded him of how many more were out there in the darkness. Somehow, the thought of the immensity of space calmed him and removed some of the chaos of his thoughts. Before, in the bullpen, it had been all he could do to not scream at the images that had welled up in his mind with every word that had been spoken. For now, there was no conflict between him and Thom. He let himself relax against the constant vigilance of keeping himself in control. How long he sat out there he didn't know, but the sound of someone approaching brought him back to reality.

"Tim?"

Tim squinted at the figure in the shadows. "Sarah?"

"Yes. It's me. Do you mind some... extra company?"

"No." He gestured to another makeshift seat and she sat next to him. Neither one spoke. What could these two people say to each other when the familial relationship they had enjoyed was both deep and false?

Tim stared up at the sky once more. "I love astronomy," he said, musingly. "I always have. Sometimes, when my work got too difficult, I would wonder why I had not decided to study it, why I chose computers and NCIS rather than NASA. I love the stars."

Sarah was looking up as well, anything to avoid making eye contact. "I know."

"Thom did as well, didn't he. He liked astronomy."

Sarah didn't see the point in lying. "Yes. He was an amateur astronomer and had planned on studying astrophysics in college."

"So, do I like astronomy because of me or because of him?" Tim looked over at his former sibling.

Sarah kept her eyes trained on the sky. "I don't know. Probably a little bit of both."

"How do I keep on, Sarah? How do I remain who I am? Should I even try?"

"All I know, Tim, is that you are who you choose to be. You could try to let Thom survive, but it's unlikely that he could resurface in total. More than likely, you would be giving yourself another personality, and a stunted one at that. You have to choose what you want to do. That won't make all your problems go away, but it's a start."

"What about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"How do you fit in? We're not really related. The McGee family doesn't exist, except in my mind." Tim paused and winced.

Flash...

"_You want to hold her, Thom?"_

"_She's so small. I'll break her."_

"_No, you won't. Just be careful."_

"But," he continued, his voice shaky, "I don't have a real family at all. The people I might have called family are dead or gone."

Finally, Sarah looked down from her contemplation of the sky. "Could... could you still accept _me_ as your sister?" At Tim's expression, she rushed on. "I know that it can't be as it was. I'm really only a couple of years younger than you, and I know that we aren't the same people you thought we were... but could you still think of me as your sister?"

"I-I don't know, Sarah," Tim answered, his mind still whirling, Thom's memories of Lizzie meshing with Tim's memories of Sarah.

Sarah smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I guess that's better than an outright no." She stood and turned to leave.

Tim watched her walk away. She had used him. She had been a spy for the people who had created this chaos. Who knew what else she had done...and yet..._she's still my sister_. Just before she reached the door, he stood and said, "Wait! Sarah, wait."

She stopped but didn't turn around. "What, Tim?"

"Come back. Please."

She did so, reluctantly, although the expression on her face was bland by the time she reached him again.

"You and I are a lot alike," Tim said carefully, considering each word before he spoke. "They can't really understand what it's like, can they?" he asked, pointing down toward the bullpen.

"No, although they _are_ trying."

"I know, and I'm glad." He looked up at Sirius blazing brightly, even through the city lights. "It means a lot to me that they aren't giving up, but I don't know if I can live in that world as I am now. I don't know... how to live anymore."

"You live the same way you did before," Sarah said.

"I don't think I can. Thom's still in there..."

Flash...

"_Thom is dead now..."_

"Tim?" Sarah put a hand on his arm. She had seen his momentarily vacant expression that signaled an intruding memory.

"You and I..." Tim resumed, smiling away the pain. "We aren't related by blood, but we are by experience. We don't have real families. Who else do we really have besides each other?"

Sarah looked into Tim's eyes, hardly daring to hope.

"I'll be your brother if you still want me, Sarah."

Sarah didn't move for a moment; then, a genuine smile suffused her face, so different from the smiles she had shown as a supposed teenager, and she grabbed Tim in a tight bear hug.

"Oof! You must have been taking hugging lessons from Abby," Tim grunted. "Let me breathe, please."

Sarah drew back, embarrassed by her emotional and above all, natural human display. She quickly switched topics. "Are you sure you want to meet with Tanner?"

"No. Are you sure he'll want to meet with me?"

"Yes. He won't be able to resist the chance to actually speak to someone he created."

Tim shuddered and turned away. "I _hate_ that word."

"I'm sorry, Tim. I don't know what else to call it."

Tim shrugged. "Why wouldn't he be able to resist?"

"It's the lure of your mind, Tim. _You_ created a nearly-seamless life above and beyond anything in your file."

"What do you mean?"

"When... designing...?" she looked at him.

"It's no better. Keep going."

"...a new life, it's impossible to create every moment of the life, every experience. That would take much longer than is possible. It's left to the mind to fill in the holes. We only made the major experiences or those that were necessary to direct the life after consciousness. You made a life so complete that the parts of Thom that crept through, cleaning asbestos, a love of astronomy, were smoothly integrated in your mind. I guess that's where your writing talent came from."

"And yours?" Tim asked.

"Mine?"

"Writing new lives?"

Sarah looked away and Tim saw he had hit a sore spot. "Sorry, Sarah."

"It's okay. It's my life and I either need to accept it or give it up." She squared her shoulders. "Anyway, Tanner will definitely want to speak to you. No question."

"Okay," Tim said softly. There was an awkward pause.

"Tim?"

"Yes?"

"Would you do something for me, please?"

"Of course."

That seemed to touch a sore spot as well and tears welled up in her eyes. "Would you sit here and be my brother? The way you used to do when I needed it?"

Tim scooted a little closer to her and put his arm around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder. They sat like that in silence, both wishing that this was the way things could stay, but knowing that all too soon they would both be forced to confront the wreck of their lives and decide how to proceed.


	22. The Hippocratic Oath

**Chapter 21: The Hippocratic (or Hypocritic?) Oath**

"Dr. James Tanner?"

Tanner looked up from his front door in surprise. Two people were right next to him. The female who had spoken seemed to shoot hatred from her eyes. He, who had never been afraid of anyone, felt a stab of fear deep in his heart. Blaser could take lessons from this woman.

He realized that he hadn't spoken. "Yes?"

The man threw a sideways glance at the woman and then pulled out a badge. Tanner focused on it, feeling a sudden sense of horror at what he saw.

"NCIS. Come with us, please." The man was less formidable, but something in the way he spoke made Tanner leery of trying anything daring. These two were case studies of repressed anger and he figured that he wouldn't mind if it stayed repressed a little bit longer.

"Of course. Could I just... make a call?" He turned to go back into his house. If NCIS knew about him, it was his job to make sure that was the end of what they knew.

A hand, slender and delicate, grabbed his arm, in a grip like a vice. How could a woman who looked so fragile have such death in her hands? He had no doubt that she could kill him without the aid of conventional weaponry.

"No, _Dr._ Tanner. You will come with us, yes?" The woman pulled him along and he followed for the simple reason that he had no choice.

"Am I under arrest?"

"No. You are coming with us for questioning."

"For what reason?" He wracked his brain. "I do have patients to see today."

"I guess you'll just have to call in sick then, won't you?" the man replied, a thin vein of humor winding through his words.

The trio reached a car, which he now realized had been parked on the street the night before. They had been _watching_ him! How much did they know? How did they know it? Then, his frantic thoughts anchored on a name: Sarah. She had been missing and declared dangerous. Attempts to locate her had been fruitless and Blaser had decided that she was a traitor to the cause and should be dealt with accordingly. That part always made him uncomfortable. He was a doctor, charged with protecting life, not taking it away. Still, that was the way it had to be. Secrecy was paramount.

He was in the car before he could protest. They had confiscated his phone, his briefcase and done a pat down. He was in big trouble; he could see that now.

"I don't know what this is about, but I do have rights," he asserted.

"You can exercise them later," the man said dismissively. He took out a phone of his own. "Gibbs, we got him. You ready?" He listened for a moment and then disconnected.

"Why am I being manhandled in this way? What do you want to know?"

"Oh, I thought you were being womanhandled, Tanner. My partner here is most definitely not a man."

"That I am not."

Tanner swallowed. "No. She isn't." He decided to hold his questions until he could get away from this dangerous pair. They didn't seem like the kind he could persuade.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They waved him into a room. It had a table and two chairs in it. It was not welcoming in the least. "Have a seat, Dr. Tanner. We'll be with you shortly."

"Thank you," he said. The ride had been silent and had allowed him to collect his thoughts. They hadn't charged him with anything. They couldn't hold him. Eventually, they'd have to either let him go or let him call his attorney. That would be the end of it. He leaned back, prepared for whatever they had to ask him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"He's not worried at all, Boss," Tony reported when they got back to the bullpen. "Just like Sarah said."

"Well, we'll see if she's right about his desire to talk to McGee."

"Where are they, Gibbs?" Ziva asked. "Abby is asleep on her futon, but Sarah and McGee are not there, nor are they in the morgue."

"They're on the roof," Gibbs answered. He had gone searching for the pair a couple of hours earlier and found them asleep, leaning on each other. He'd decided against disturbing them.

"The roof? Why?"

"Who knows? You'd probably better wake them up while I talk to Tanner. McGee needs to be ready for it."

"I'll go!" Tony offered, entirely too eagerly.

"No, you won't, Tony. _You_ will sit nicely at your desk or go with Gibbs to interrogation. _I_ will wake them up." Before he could dodge around her, Ziva spun in place and was back in the elevator in a split second. She even, as the doors closed, stuck her tongue out at Tony as a final gesture of victory.

"Well, DiNozzo? Coming?" Gibbs asked.

"I guess so, Boss."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tanner watched as the gray-haired man walked silently into the room. Outwardly, he seemed impassive, but he could see more rage boiling beneath the surface. Were all people in NCIS this angry?

"I'm Agent Gibbs."

"I guess you know who I am already. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here," Tanner said amiably. "Do you have some questions?"

"Yes," Gibbs said. Tanner waited for him to continue, but he just stared at Tanner without speaking. It was a strange method of interrogation, particularly when he was sure they both knew his time was limited. What was the point? The silent seconds stretched into minutes. Tanner could remain silent with the best of them, but he had to admit that this stare was slightly unnerving.

"Well?" Gibbs asked, as if they'd been having an extensive conversation already.

"Well, what, Agent Gibbs?"

"You're a doctor, right?"

"Obviously."

"You subscribe to the Hippocratic Oath, right?"

"Well, it's not a formal requirement, but most doctors do."

"Not you?"

"I didn't say that."

"Well?"

Tanner sighed and answered, "Yes, I follow the Hippocratic Oath."

"I don't think you do."

"Oh, really?"

"Isn't there a part in there where you pledge to do no harm?"

"Yes, after a pledge to take care of one's teacher and his family if necessary which is fairly outdated in the modern age, one taking the pledge would say, 'I will prescribe regimens for the good of my patients according to my ability and judgment and never do harm to anyone.'"

"Do you physicians take this seriously?"

"Certainly."

"So, I ask you again, _Dr._ Tanner, do you follow the Hippocratic Oath?"

"Yes, of course..." Tanner trailed off when Gibbs started to lay out photos of various dead bodies.

"Do you recognize any of these people, Dr. Tanner?"

"No. Should I?" That was a lie. Tanner knew that Gibbs could see it. This Gibbs was not the type to miss the smallest flicker. He knew most of these people, not all, but many. He had seen them looking much the same, in a state of limbo between lives, as they did in their current state of death.

"Well, you might forget what to call them. After all, you _did_ change who they were. You may get their names mixed up. For example, this is Lisa Sarton... or Terese Pinoche when she was a prostitute... before you took her and destroyed Terese in order to create Lisa. Of course, Lisa didn't last long either, did she?"

"I read about her in the paper. She committed suicide."

"I suppose that was good luck all around for your little group. She was on the verge of remembering, wasn't she? You couldn't allow someone to remember that they'd been someone else."

"Is there a point to this, Agent Gibbs? I see dead bodies all the time. I'm not afraid of them."

Gibbs smiled, the way that a carnivore smiles just before tearing its prey to pieces. "No, I guess you wouldn't be afraid of them. They're all dead. They can't implicate you; they can't bring evidence against you. What about this man?" He pulled one more photo out of the folder. "This was taken yesterday."

Tanner gulped. Of course he remembered the man in the photo, just as if it _were_ yesterday. He could still see him lying on the slab. He remembered when he had gone through the shoddy remains of his clothes, when he had found the business card and the photograph. He tore his eyes away and feigned complete unconcern.

"Yesterday? He doesn't look dead."

"He's not, and he's remembering."

Tanner's eyes widened. "Remembering what, pray tell?"

"The life you destroyed."

"I don't know what you mean, Agent Gibbs," he said. His voice was still nonchalant, but in his mind he was thinking, _Timothy is still alive? How is that possible? I sent the order myself._

"Sarah is still alive as well."

Now, Tanner actually blanched. He had warned Blaser, over and over, that there could be problems, but when the problems finally arose, they didn't hit Blaser, did they. No, just Tanner.

"We know quite a bit about what you do, Dr. Tanner, but we want to know more."

"Oh, really?" Tanner made a show of looking at his watch. "Well, am I under arrest?"

"No."

"Then, I think this interview is over." He stood up.

"By all means." Gibbs gestured toward the door. As Tanner's hand reached the knob, he added, "I thought you'd be curious at least."

Tanner didn't turn around. It was a ploy and an obvious one at that. "You were wrong, I guess."

Gibbs shook his head and Tanner couldn't help noticing it in the mirror. "I thought you'd at least want to _see_ one of your creations...alive, to see what you've done."

Tanner's hand fell limply to his side. The chance to see one of his successes, the chance to know that he had done right by him. Even as he framed the thought, he knew that wouldn't be what he saw. In his heart of hearts, he knew that he had condemned every one of his creations to an eventual death, but here there was one who had _not_ died.

"However, if you're not interested, then, please, feel free to go," Gibbs said lightly. It was a taunt, a challenge, and they both knew it.

Tanner willed himself to leave. The logical part of his brain knew that this was a mistake, that there would be strings attached, strings that couldn't be removed. As soon as he acknowledged his interest, it was all over. No more job, no more work, possibly no more life... exactly what he had given to the others.

Still facing the door, he sighed, all pretense gone and said, "You know, Agent Gibbs, every oath comes with consequences for breaking it. The Hippocratic Oath is no different."

Gibbs didn't respond; Tanner almost forgot he was there.

He quoted from memory, "'If I keep this oath faithfully, may I enjoy my life and practice my art, respected by all men and in all times; but if I swerve from it or violate it, may the reverse be my lot.' I suppose that I am finally getting the reverse." He took a deep breath, steeled himself and turned around. "Let me talk to Timothy and I'll answer your questions."

Gibbs stood and walked very close to Tanner. "Oh, we'll be wanting a lot more than that from you. A lot more." The undercurrent of anger was closer to the surface now.

"I won't give you anything until I speak to Timothy," Tanner repeated, firmly.

Gibbs simply walked by him and out the door. Left alone again, Tanner walked back to the table and sighed. He was committed now. Boy, was he committed. His name would be placed _above_ Sarah's on the list. She was only a little higher than Timothy, but he was one of the leaders. It was his program they used to create the new personalities, his machine which retrained the minds. They wouldn't wait to understand. He'd be dead, but he hoped he could at least see what he was signing his life away for before that moment arrived.


	23. Better Than Imagined

**Chapter 22: Better Than Imagined**

"Are you sure you want to do this, McGee?" Ziva asked. "I could simply beat the information out of him. It would be a pleasure."

Tim had been staring intently through the glass at his creator. No one had dared to even try to speak to him. His gaze had not altered, pained as it was. Gibbs' gaze had been intense, but it had not come even close to Tim's expression.

"No, Ziva. He needs to see what he has done," he whispered. "And he needs to undo it." He turned and walked out of the room. Sarah followed him, quickly.

"Tim, wait!" she called after him.

Gibbs was standing out in the hallway, his back to them, but he turned as he heard Sarah's voice.

"Please, Tim. Let me try to talk to him, first. Maybe he'll change his mind."

Tim stopped walking and looking down at Sarah. "No. If something happens to me in there, then maybe he'll see what he's been doing to us... to me."

Another wave of pain washed over him and he put his hand to his head.

Flash...

"_No loitering! We don't need any delinquents fouling up the streets. Move along!"_

"_Please, sir. I just want a job."_

"_I don't need someone like you. Get out of here before I call the cops!"_

Tim blinked away the tears. "He needs to see something like that." He turned to Gibbs and asked, "Are you ready for me to go in, Boss?"

"Wait a minute, McGee. Let him stew. We're going to be watching, you know."

Tim smiled faintly. "There's always someone watching."

"That's right." Gibbs headed toward observation, but stopped and put his hand on Tim's shoulder. "You won't be alone... not even outside your head. Remember that."

"Yes, Boss."

Gibbs touched Sarah on the arm. She nodded and turned to follow him, leaving Tim alone in the hallway. He stared at the door in front of him for a long time. To his surprise, no one peeked out at him, wondering where he was, what he was doing. Finding one thing about Thom last night had helped him keep control, but he knew that control was tenuous at best. There were gaps in his mind and too many memories for the life he had lived... or rather the life he thought he had lived. Even if he made it through all this without going crazy, how was he supposed to talk about himself? Tim's life was a lie and Thom's life ended at around age twenty. Thom's life had been real, but it had ended. Tim's life was fake, but it continued. How could he put the two together? The thought of actually completely forgetting Thom never crossed his mind. Now that he knew the person had existed, and was sort of accepting it, he couldn't in good conscience allow that person to die away completely. However, he wanted to remain who he was. Without really thinking about it, he rested his head on the cool metal of the door. His head felt so heavy. In and out. In and out. He took deep calming breaths, preparing himself to see Tanner. Then, finally, he straightened and opened the door to confront his creator.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He walked in and sat at the table across from Tanner, not really looking at him. The man sitting there was the one who had killed the former occupant of this body and created the chaos currently existing for the present occupant. He regretted agreeing to see him. All he wanted was to run as far from him as possible and pretend that he didn't exist. He was tense as a bowstring.

"Hello, Dr. Tanner. I understand you wanted to speak to me." How he got those words out, he never knew. That was the hardest sentence he'd ever formed.

"Amazing. It's better than I had imagined. You really are Timothy." Tanner sounded anything but remorseful and that goaded Tim into looking in his eyes.

"Better than you imagined? Can't you see what you've _done_ to me?" He caught Tanner's eyes and refused to look away. He didn't know what Tanner saw there, but he knew what he was seeing... and it wasn't Tanner.

_He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The only sensation he had was of cold and an emptiness in his mind._

Tim exhaled loudly, but refused to look away. "Do see it? Can you see it in my eyes? Can you see what is happening to me?"

Tanner seemed transfixed. He was barely breathing himself.

Tim said softly, "What do you see in my eyes, Tanner? It is better than you imagined?"

"The lives we took. They were nearly over anyway," Tanner said feebly.

"Who made that choice? You?"

"No. Not me. I did the work, but I never chose the subjects. Look at yourself, Timothy. Look at where you are. Thom was nothing."

There was another flash, no memory, that is no images, but emotions, foreign emotions surged through Tim's mind along with the pain. The anger and fear at the world that Thom had felt became part of him.

"What gives you the right to decide that? What makes you judge, jury and executioner? You have killed people! You tried to kill _me_. I would have been dead without the people here."

"Thom was homeless. He'd been that way for five years. Th-there was nothing, nothing for him." Tanner hesitated. He knew himself that it wasn't exactly true.

Again, Tim felt an emotional surge that swamped his own feelings, Thom's cultivated distrust and fear of adult figures. He stood up and turned toward the mirror, knowing who was on the other side, confronting his own image. He was trying to explain his current state when he himself had only a partial understanding.

"Dr. Tanner, you killed Thom and now you're killing me! Where does it stop?" He gasped at the pain and put his hands on the mirror to hold him up. He turned back. "Do you know what is happening to me right now?" He stopped, gasping, trying to stay in control long enough to explain, to show Tanner all he had wrought. "I am fighting to stay who I am. I'm fighting against memories and feelings that aren't mine, and..." He closed his eyes in a vain attempt to stave off the pain. "...and... I'm not sure... how long I can..." Another surge drove him to his knees. In his mind, it felt as though a dam exploded and the flood waters of memory drowned him. His eyes rolled up in his head and he was gone.

Before Tanner could break his frozen state, he saw the door open and a host of people swarm around Tim. Among the group, he saw Sarah, looking as concerned as the rest of them and he understood. She had defected because of Tim.

"It was better than I imagined," he whispered, unheard by the others. Then, he shook himself and walked over to the group. Without invitation, and ignoring the death glares he was receiving, he knelt beside Tim and checked his vitals. "Amazing," he said quietly.

"Amazing, how?" the older man asked.

"Timothy has placed himself in a state very similar to the one that occurs during re-education. His mind is pliable and open to various stimuli, but it is not conscious."

"Is it dangerous?" Tanner noticed the edge to the man's voice but ignored it.

"Possibly. It depends on how long it lasts. Has it happened before?"

"Only after seizures."

"Seizures? How many?"

"Too many. Probably more than ten in the last day or so."

"Yes, the blocks are definitely weakening. _That_ is dangerous."

"Why?"

"With the memory blocks weak but holding, they allow pieces of memory to escape, but not everything. Tim's problems are due as much to the fact that he doesn't know the whole story as to the conflicting memories he has. The blocks need to be fixed or else taken away entirely."

"Remove them." Tanner looked up at the steely voice. He smiled at Sarah who returned the grin with an evil one of her own.

"Easier said than done as you well know."

"You can do it. I know that much."

"He has to be conscious for it or else I need access to my equipment."

"Which one?" Gibbs asked.

"You haven't asked if I'll do it," Tanner said, although he knew he would. He wasn't showing it, but Tim's distress had shaken him deeply. He wondered if they all had this problem, this pain before death.

"I don't have to ask."

Yes, Tanner could believe that. Gibbs seemed to look into his mind with that disturbing stare of his.

"While you're at it, you can remove all the compulsions you placed on him as well," Sarah added.

"Why don't I just part the Red Sea while I'm working all these miracles? There are limits to what I can do here. I need my equipment."

"Where is it?" Gibbs asked.

"There is a rudimentary setup at my house... if it's still there. I'll also need things from the safe in my office."

"You're not leaving here."

"Fine. What do you suggest?"

Gibbs considered for only a moment. "Give your combination to DiNozzo and tell him what you need."

"I can't just do that. My assistant won't let you in my office."

"Then, you can call her and tell her we're coming," Tony said easily. "Ooh. You can even write us a doctor's note. It would be my first genuine note."

"That I can well believe," Ducky muttered from his position beside Tim. "Where will this need to be done?"

"Someplace we can make completely dark if necessary, preferably with little other furniture beyond a table."

"We could use the morgue," Ducky offered.

"Or, the conference room," Abby suggested quickly. Goodness knows what Tim would think if he woke up in Autopsy.

Tanner nodded. "Then, we should move him there. Do you have a phone, Agent Gibbs?"

"Come with me." Gibbs led him to another small, unremarkable room. There was a phone. "Call your secretary and put the phone on speaker. Don't try anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, Agent Gibbs," Tanner said. It was hard to believe that Gibbs didn't give into the obvious desire he had to punch him out, but he expertly mastered the impulse and pushed the phone at Tanner who dialed his office number.

"Hello, Dr. Tanner's office?" came a friendly voice.

"Ah, Sam. This is Dr. Tanner. I'm sending a man to my office to retrieve some items from my safe. He'll have the combination with him. Could you see to it that he finds everything he needs?"

"Aren't you coming in today?"

"No. Something important has come up and I won't be coming in at all. I believe Dr. Daly is on call. He should be available if anything untoward happens."

"What's the man's name?"

"Tony DiNozzo. He'll have a note with my signature on it."

"Yes, Doctor. Anything else?"

"No. That will be it, Sam. Thank you." He disconnected. "That satisfy you, Agent Gibbs?"

"Yes." He shoved a notebook at Tanner. "Write the note."

"Yes, sir," Tanner replied. He wrote a short note, included his combination, then signed the bottom in the typical doctor's scrawl.

"Thank you. Come with me." Gibbs stood up again and led Tanner back to the interrogation room. "Have a seat."

"Thank..." the door slammed. "...you." Tanner shrugged. He sat down, notebook still in hand, and began to absently jot down notes for the process of deprogramming Tim's mind. It wasn't easily done. In fact, they rarely tried it. He had done it once to prove it could be done and a couple of other times with some of the less vital plants. The compulsions were easily dealt with, whatever he had said to Sarah. However, the blocks were another matter entirely. He couldn't figure out why Sarah was so insistent that he remove them rather than simply shore them up. Having all of Thom unleashed on Tim's personality could be detrimental, not because Thom might take over, but because Tim couldn't handle the flood. He shrugged. It wasn't up to him. In the end, even though he was committed to doing the best he could, it was just another great opportunity. For what? Maybe atonement. Even someone like Tanner, committed more to the cause of science than the cause of patriotism, could be touched by something unjust.


	24. What Comes Next?

**Chapter 23: What Comes Next?**

Tanner was left cooling his heels in interrogation for a couple of hours while his equipment was assembled. Finally, he looked up as the door opened once more. Instead of Gibbs, as he'd been expecting, however, it was Sarah.

"So, Sarah, you're pretty high on the list, you know," Tanner said conversationally.

She smiled. "Not as high as you are, I'm sure."

"Is this a play for revenge?"

"Not at all, although I will admit to experiencing a certain satisfaction at the idea of your brains splattered on the sidewalk."

"Such violence, my dear. It doesn't become you."

"How would you know what becomes me, Tanner?" Sarah asked, her smile gone. "_I_ don't even know what becomes me." She paused and turned toward the door. Then, she turned back. "Why are you doing this, Tanner? I know what motivates me, but I refuse to believe that it is the same for you."

"Ah, you're motivated by love, are you?" Tanner asked cynically. "You always were a bit of a weak link when it came to familial relationships."

"You should have known better, I guess."

"It wasn't my idea to pair you with Timothy. Blaser sets up those details."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

She raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, you mean, my motivations? Let's call it scientific curiosity along with a dose of penance," he said and stood to follow her.

"I guess that will do, although I think it's too simplistic," Sarah commented as they headed to the conference room.

"No more simplistic than your own motivations. There's more to it than love, isn't there?"

Sarah wouldn't favor his comment with a glance. Tanner just smiled.

"Do _you_ even know your own motivations?"

"Yes, I do, Tanner," she said shortly. It was none of his business what her reasons were.

"In here?" he asked at a fairly ornate doorway.

"Yes."

"Well, it's nice to know that not every room in NCIS is designed in the brutalistic style," he said, pleasantly. The room was full of people and Tim laying on a couch, still unconscious. "You can't all be in here. I'll need everyone out."

Ziva was in his face in an instant. "If you think that we will leave McGee at your mercy, you have..." she paused and he noticed it was as if she was thinking through the words before she continued, just as vehemently, "...got another thing coming."

It was almost as funny as it was terrifying and Tanner barely kept himself from cowering even as a desire to chuckle grabbed him. "Fine. Two people may act as witnesses during the process, but they are not allowed to speak or to interfere. Is that amenable?"

Gibbs looked around the room at the concerned members of the team. Every one of them felt that their presence was necessary when, in reality, none of them needed to be there for Tim's sake, just for their own. Who of this group could be counted on to keep quiet unless it was absolutely necessary? His gaze fixed on Sarah and Ducky. Abby would be angry at being kept out, but he knew, as did she, that her possessive nature would be more of a hindrance than a help. Ziva would be continually threatening Tanner with certain death and Tony would be likely to make jokes in a misguided effort to ease the tension. Sarah knew some of what had to go on, and Ducky, while possessing a tendency to maunder, was medically well-trained and could keep his mouth shut when it was required.

"Okay," he said after a few seconds. "Ducky and Sarah will stay in here. The rest of you, out."

The inevitable protests arose, with Abby's, predictably, being the loudest.

He cut them all off quickly. "That's the decision and that's the end of it. Out!"

Abby spun on her clompy boots and stomped out of the room. Tony and Ziva made one last protest, but it was token at best, and they retreated as well. Gibbs followed them all with one final look toward Tim, whom Tanner and Ducky were transferring to the table. There was nothing more he could do. They all had to wait. It was up to Tanner now... and Tim.

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For Tim, time passed unnoticed. He was, as Tanner had surmised, not conscious, but he was not completely unaware. It was a state remotely related to that of people who had not received enough anesthesia to be unconscious during surgery, but enough to be unable to communicate. He felt the coldness of the table when Tanner removed his shirt and shivered briefly when the various probes and monitors were attached to his head and chest. He heard the words being spoken although most had no meaning for him. Instead, he gave himself up to the tangle of memories, too exhausted to hold them at bay.

_It was different this time. This wasn't a memory. It was a visual representation of what his mind was experiencing. Tim thought it was rather like being John Crichton in _Farscape_: having conversations inside his own head._

"_Farscape? What's that?"_

_Tim turned and saw a vaguely humanoid shape in the air near him. He look around and saw that he was in a snow-covered park, like the one from his dream. The dream that was a memory. He felt a vague disquiet at confronting the figure, but no fear._

"_What is it?"_

_Tim shrugged and decided to answer..._

"It's a science fiction series."

The mumbled words startled the room's occupants. "What, Timothy?" Ducky asked, momentarily forgetting the injunction against speech. Tanner looked at him. "Sorry."

"He's living in his head right now. He'll say things that make no sense to us, and he may not even remember them later."

"_I liked science fiction. It's been awhile since I had the chance to read any."_

"I'd imagine. You're dead, aren't you?"

Sarah and Ducky looked at each other, wondering what Tim was thinking, to whom he was talking. Tanner finished attaching all the probes. "Okay, lights out. Absolutely no talking from the time the lights go out until I say. Understand?"

They both nodded. Sarah stood and walked to the bank of light switches and flicked them all off. Then, she made her way carefully back to her chair. Tanner turned on his machine and began to probe the hidden recesses of Tim's mind.

"_I suppose I must be. I can't feel the cold and it should be cold. This park has no shelter from the wind, but I don't feel dead."_

"What are you?"

"_I'm... I'm not sure what I am really. I don't belong in here. Not anymore. I know that much. It's been too long." The figure floated over to the bench. Once it sat on it, it seemed to gain some sort of substance. "This is the last complete memory I have. This bench. This night."_

"Who are you, then?" Tim asked, although he thought he knew the answer.

"_My name is Thom, although no one around here knew that. The last person to call me by my name was..." The figure paused and flinched in pain. Tim did the same. "... it was someone telling me I was dead." It looked around the park again. "It wasn't here. It was later. Before that, it was Ms. Thompson."_

"Thom?"

"_Yes."_

"Are you me?"

"_No. I don't think so. We can't both be."_

"I know. I can feel it."

_The figure hunched his shoulders on the bench. It was a posture too easily adopted as if he had placed himself at others' mercy too often. "I don't want to die," he said quietly. "Even in my worst moments, I didn't want to die. I knew it was impossible, but I always wanted to make everything better. I woke up every morning of my life in this city expecting, no hoping, that I was back home in my bed. Five years of waking up in a nightmare that wouldn't end."_

"I don't want to die either, Thom."

"_I know." The figure flinched away again. Tim felt a stab of pain in through his brain that drove him to his knees._

"That's the last one, Timothy. No more compulsions, no more kill commands, no more forgetting," Tanner whispered as Tim's back arched off the table. His eyelids flickered for a second, but then resumed their ground state, half covering Tim's empty eyes.

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"Excuse me, sir, could you direct me to the NCIS building?" the man asked politely.

"Oh, of course, it's that one just over there."

"Thanks." The three men moved in the direction of the indicated building, but they did not go inside. Instead, they went to a building nearby.

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"_I don't want to die! I'm not ready! I don't want to disappear!"_

Tim's body began to shake. Ducky started to stand, but Sarah held him down. He looked carefully at Tim, trying to ascertain whether he was in danger. This was all completely foreign to him.

"I don't want to die!"

"_What's happening to us?"_

"I can remember!"

"_Don't let me die!" The figure rose off the bench and moved toward Tim. "Don't forget who _I_ am!" There was panic in the words. _

_Tim looked at the figure, so faintly there. It was who he had been. Could he let that go? Could he allow someone who had really lived to completely die away in favor of a false memory? But could Thom's memories exist in his mind without killing both of them?_

"_Please, help me! I don't want to die!"_

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The building had an unobstructed view of NCIS. Those big windows made for an easy shot. The three men knelt down and began to set up their observation. They were prepared for a long wait or a short one. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the target. One took out the photograph and set it up in plain view of all three of them.

"Ready?"

"Two minutes."

"Faster."

"Yes, sir."

The gun was not particularly futuristic, but it was all the more menacing for it. That's just the way it was made. In the hands of these men, it was a lethal weapon, not a demo.

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_Tim looked around the park, the falling snow, the overall emptiness. Only he and this shadowy figure existed. He could reject Thom completely, but... he couldn't, anymore than he could have blamed Sarah for the life he had now. There was no face to the figure, but he knew it was crying in terror._

"Come on, Timothy," Tanner mouthed the words. There was a resistance to his probes and the amount trauma he'd already suffered made Tanner reluctant to put anymore pressure on his mind. "Let me through."

"_Please, please... Tim. I just don't want to be forgotten. Who else will remember me if you forget? I'm nothing."_

"No. You're wrong." _Tim held out his hand to the figure. It didn't move at first, but then it moved over to him. Instead of simply taking his hand, the figure began to submerge itself beneath Tim's skin. The sudden onrush of memories made him scream, but the invasion didn't stop. Thom's memories relentlessly invaded Tim's mind. He was simultaneously in a million different moments from both personalities as the two began to merge. He couldn't fight it and he couldn't stop it. All he could do was try to endure it and hope that there was something left at the end of all the pain._

"Hold him down! Let me disconnect him!" Tanner shouted, and the sudden abandonment of silence was a shock. It took Ducky and Sarah a couple of seconds to realize what he was saying. Tim was writhing on the table and shouting inarticulately. They grabbed Tim's shoulders and legs.

"Is this what should be happening?" Ducky asked over the shouting.

Tanner shrugged as he fought to remove the wires. "I have no idea. There will probably be a period of readjustment."

"Readjustment? Is _that_ what you're calling it?" Sarah asked.

"You're talking about putting the complete memories of two people over the course of twenty years in the same mind," Tanner explained loftily. "It's not going to be easy, or pleasant, for the mind. It depends as much on the personalities of the two people as it does on the quality of the work I did, which I assure you is the best I could do." He finished removing all the wires and probes; then, he walked to the door and turned on a few of the lights. The equipment was a tangled mass of machinery and monitors.

"Now, what?" Ducky asked, still holding Tim's flailing limbs.

"Now, we wait. There's nothing else I can do for him and nothing else any of you can do either. It's all up to Timothy." Tanner bent over on the table and started to scribble in the notebook he still had. Then, he ripped out the page, folded carefully and wrote another short message on the outside. "This is for Timothy when he wakes up."

Ducky looked at the nearly incomprehensible doctor's scrawl. "What is it?"

"It's for Timothy and that's all you need to know," he said shortly.

Suddenly, Tim sighed and went limp under their restraining hands. Ducky immediately bent over him and checked his vitals.

"He's breathing."

"Let's just move him back to the couch. There's no reason to leave him on the table now."

Ducky nodded and the two of them moved Tim back. It was rather anticlimactic for Tim to be simply sleeping calmly in the wake of all the chaos of a few moments before. Sarah sat next to him and held his hand in silence.

"Well, we may as well go and give a report."

"Shouldn't someone stay with him?" Sarah asked, finally breaking her brooding silence.

Tanner smiled with a tinge of condescension. "He won't wake up any time soon, but by all means stay with him if it makes you feel better."

Sarah glared, but stood to follow. "I'll go tell Abby. She'll want to stay with him, regardless of his current status."

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"Do you see him yet?"

"No. Not yet." One of the men checked the radar. "The only heat signatures belong to the other members of the team."

"We'll get him eventually."

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"Well, Agent Gibbs. It's done," Tanner announced as he and Ducky entered the bullpen.

"Now?"

"Now, we wait. As I told the others, we can only wait." Tanner turned toward the windows. His eyes widened imperceptibly.

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"I have him."

"Take the shot."

The bullet flew across the street making nearly no sound until it smashed through the glass of the windows of NCIS.

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"Too late," Tanner said with a strange smile.

"Wha–?" Gibbs started to say and then stopped, as his mind registered the sound of the approaching bullet.

It was all over in an instant. No one had a chance to move and Tanner dropped like a stone, a bullet in his head. Everyone dove to the ground, but no one really thought they were in any danger. The one who was the target was dead.

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"Target is eliminated."

"Good. Pack it up. We're gone."

In less than a minute, the only evidence left on the roof was a photograph of James Tanner and a few cigarette butts.

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Gibbs was the one who unfroze first. "That came from across the street! DiNozzo, David! Get over there!"

Tony and Ziva were out of the room in seconds.

Ducky knelt beside Tanner.

"Well, Ducky?" Gibbs asked, although he knew there was no chance.

"Dead."

"Okay."

"What now?"

Gibbs sighed and looked at the corpse. "I don't know, Duck. I just don't know."


	25. The Awakening

**Chapter 24: The Awakening**

_The memories ebbed and flowed like waves on the sea. Tim floated unconsciously through them, no sounds, no sights, just wave upon wave of memories through which he moved like a ghost. Sometimes, a piece would penetrate and he jerked at the intrusion; however, it was more of a shock than a pain. There was just so much there. He could feel it getting in and he feared its presence._

"No, no, no," Tim mumbled quietly. "Stay away."

"What, Tim?" Abby asked eagerly, as she had every time Tim had made a noise in the last couple of hours.

His eyes opened, but only stared sightlessly into her face. "I'm not ready." Then, his eyes slid shut again.

"Ready for what, Tim?"

The door to the conference room opened and Tony poked his head in. "Abby?"

"What, Tony?" Abby looked up. "You can come all the way in, you know. Tim doesn't have a contagious disease."

Tony grimaced at the ease with which Abby had pinpointed the source of his discomfort.

"How's he doing?"

"I don't know. He keeps talking in his... well, I guess it's sleep although I sure can't wake him up." She grinned suddenly. "He doesn't make any weird noises in this sleep though. No snoring or anything, just talking."

"TMI, Abby." Tony edged inside, holding a file defensively in front of him.

"What do you need?"

"Gibbs needs ballistics on a bullet. And he's hoping for some miracles on a couple of cigarette butts and a photograph."

"A bullet? Cigarettes? What happened?"

Tony swallowed. "Tanner is dead."

Abby stood quickly, dropping Tim's hand. "What?! When? How?"

"In the bullpen. Someone took a shot right through the windows. Got him in the head."

"Did you find them?"

"No. They were gone by the time Ziva and I got there."

"Gibbs needs this stuff now?"

"ASAP, Abbs. Whoever these guys are could be gunning for Sarah or Tim next."

Abby sighed. "Okay. ...I don't want to leave Tim alone, though. Will you stay with him?"

Tony shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Well, I don't know... I mean, he's... it's not like he needs any help right now."

"But Tony, I don't want him to wake up alone! Please?" Abby did her best puppy dog look and clasped her hands together.

"Okay, but if he starts to act crazy again, I'm leaving him to his fate," Tony said, although they both knew he would never do that.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Tony!" Abby threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Let go, Abbs. Go do your job," Tony muttered as he tossed the file on the table.

"On my way." She clomped out of the room. Tony noticed that Tim had not moved, not even when Abby's clodhoppers made contact with the floor. Abby had been sitting on the couch with Tim, but Tony pulled a chair over by the couch.

"McGee, I hope you know that I have no intention of holding your hand or doing anything comforting," Tony said. "All I'm doing is sitting here and making sure you don't kill yourself. Got that? Do ya got that, McGee?"

Tim twitched and moaned but made no other response.

"What's going through that thick skull of yours right now, Probie?" Tony asked. "You're the thinker of the group, but there's such a thing as living too much in your head."

Suddenly, Tim's eyes flew open again and he shouted, "Don't let me die!"

"Whoa, McGee!" Tony stood up in alarm and then looked sheepish as Tim's eyes closed and he relaxed back into his unconscious state. "Man, warn a guy, will ya?" He sat back down and watched Tim's face carefully.

_Tim was drowning, trying desperately to keep his head above the waters, but it was as if the waves kept crashing over his head. He struggled, like a panicked swimmer who has forgotten how to swim, and couldn't find how to ground himself in the memories. Thom had not wanted to be forgotten, but Tim was in danger of losing himself to the flood. Events from Thom's life took root in his mind. His first day of school, his parents' deaths, the science fair, his first telescope, the first time he stole food, getting kicked out of a shelter. The memories piled up and fear built up inside until it burst out of him._

"No! I can't do it!" Tim yelled. This time, he opened his eyes and actually sat up. At first, Tony thought he had finally regained consciousness, but then, he noticed Tim's eyes were still empty. He was still asleep, but doing the crazed equivalent of sleepwalking. He pulled away from Tony's chair and curled into a ball, rocking back and forth, his fingers contracting into rigid claws and clutching either side of his head.

Tony stood watching, not sure of what to do. What he wanted to do was go and get someone else and let them deal with it, but he found that he couldn't just leave Tim like this. He pulled his chair closer to where Tim was and sat down again.

"Tim?" he said, hesitantly.

The rocking form made no response.

"McGee. I don't know what you think you can't do, but that's just silly. You're McGee. If there's something esoteric going on, you can do it. I call you a geek for a reason. All of this is in your head. That means that it's right up your alley. Don't you write stories for a living... or rather for an additional living?"

There was no easing of the tension in the body.

Tony spread his hands wide and cast a glance up at the ceiling, looking for inspiration. "What I'm trying to say, McGee, is that you can do this. Whatever it is you're trying to do. You can do it. Besides, you _need_ to do it; so we can get on with things. We still need to catch the guys in charge, we need to get things done." He paused and thought a little more. "And then, there are still people who remember who Thom was. You don't have to _be_ him to talk about him, do you? Can't you just remember the stuff that happened and move on?"

Still no response. Tony couldn't take just sitting there and staring at Tim; so he started to pace around the room, hoping that Abby would get done quickly and get back to sit with Tim. He really needed to be doing something more productive than talking to a statue. He looked at the file and realized, as if for the first time, what it was. He picked it up and walked back over to Tim's hunched form.

"You know, McGee, you and Thom are quite a bit alike. I don't know why there would be any problems with... having his memories... if that's what it is that happened. I didn't completely follow any of the five different explanations for what's going on in your head." He began to flip through the file of information they had compiled about Thom. "Listen to this, McGee. Thom was a complete geek in school. His teachers all loved him because he was an overachiever." He looked up at Tim. "Sounds like someone I know." He looked back down. "Thom was good at computers. Check. He had a younger sister; his parents died. Check, check." Tony looked up again. Tim hadn't moved. "...and he seems like a good guy, McGee. He didn't have the chance to be everything he could be, but I don't think they could have made up the good person you are. If you heard that, remember that you can never say anything about it because I'll only deny it ever happened. I'm just trying to help."

Still, there was no change in position that Tony could see. He sighed and started to wander again.

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_Tim still fought the memories, but a voice started to intrude on his battle. It was a familiar voice, one that he wasn't sure he was glad to hear. It was faint, as if coming from a great distance, but he still heard it. He couldn't spare the effort to acknowledge it though. He was battling for supremacy._

"...you and Thom are quite a bit alike..."

_They were, weren't they. He couldn't deny that he'd seen quite a few similarities in those memories. It's just that there were so _many_ of them. He couldn't figure out how to fit them all in, how to justify their existence in his head when he already had memories for a lot of the time._

"...I don't think they could have made up the good person you are..."

_Maybe not. Maybe it actually _was_ possible to be Thom and Tim at the same time. Maybe he _could_ file away all those events and access them when necessary. Still rigid with fear, Tim began to let down his guard, to let Thom into his head. With the lack of resistance, all that remained of who Thom had been flooded Tim's brain. Too quickly. He screamed in agony, but he didn't stop the memories. He let them come in... all of them, and resigned himself to possible oblivion or insanity. After what seemed like forever, they slowed first to a slow crawl, then to a trickle. There were still occasional inundations, but they were less frequent and less and less difficult to take in. Then, Tim watched, as if in a movie, the last memory that Thom had..._

_A man, Tim recognized him now as Tanner, leaned over the motionless body on the table. "Thom, you're about gone. Timothy is coming along nicely. The mental pathways are absolutely amazing. What I wouldn't give to probe your created memories verbally."_

_Thom watched the scene as though through three feet of cotton batting. It was muffled and fading. He felt himself dying, but he couldn't bring himself to fight the death that had been slowly coming on him for the last five years._

"_I think Timothy is my best yet. In fact, I think I should be calling you Timothy McGee now. Thom is on the verge of extinction and you, Timothy, are on the ascendant." Tanner looked almost ecstatic at his apparent success. The image faded yet more and Thom knew he was almost dead. That didn't bother him too much. "Good-bye, Thom."_

Good-bye_, he thought and surrendered himself to his apparent death._

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"Tony?"

Tony had been pacing back and forth and had his back to Tim. The voice completely took him by surprise. It was soft and exhausted, but it was also sane-sounding. Tony realized that he was grinning like an idiot and quickly schooled his expression before he turned around to face Tim. He was still sitting on the couch, but he was no longer in a rictus of agony. His face was white as a sheet and he looked about as sturdy as jello, but he was looking around with an expression of dawning comprehension.

"Hey, Probie. How are you feeling?" he asked, and he mentally applauded himself for sounding so normal.

"Like..." Tim paused and looked around the room again. "Like I'm really me again."

"Well, who else could you be?"

Tim's eyes shadowed and he looked away. "I could have been Thom, Tony." Tony saw, to his horror, that Tim's eyes were filling with tears. "I remember being Thom. I remember him... dying. I remember losing my parents twice, once as myself and once as Thom. I remember... every injustice he suffered. Tony... I... I could have _been_ Thom. I'd be dead now if I was. He..." Tim took a deep breath as he tried to stop the tears. "He wouldn't have lasted much longer as he was. And..." He looked around the room again. "When did I get into the conference room?"

"This was where Tanner worked his magic." Tony noticed that Tim was making no attempt to stand. He must feel as shaky as he looked.

"Tanner? What did he do to me?" Tim looked both frightened and appalled.

"If I understood it all correctly, and I doubt I did, he let you remember everything about Thom and he took away all the little pieces in your head that made you act very un-McGee-like."

"No more lost time?" Tim whispered hopefully.

"As far as I know... at least no more lost time due to bad guys. What you do under the influence of alcohol is still your own fault." In the hopes of forestalling anymore emotional outbursts, Tony added, "Do you want to go and greet your adoring public?"

To his surprise, Tim shook his head. "I need to be alone for a little while. Do you mind?"

"Absolutely not."

Tim smiled at his vehemence. "Thanks for being here at the beginning though, Tony. I do appreciate the great sacrifice of sitting next to a crazy person for hours on end."

"You're not crazy, McGee," Tony said seriously.

Tim shook his head again. "Not anymore. Maybe I never was... at least not by the conventional definition." He looked toward the window and fell silent.

"I'll tell everyone."

"Okay, but tell them I want to be alone, will you?"

"I will, but you'd better hope Abby hears that part of my message."

Tim didn't look back, but smiled again, a little wistfully.

Tony waited a moment longer, watching Tim, but then he shrugged and left Tim alone in the room.


	26. Once More

**Chapter 25: Once More**

After the door closed, Tim let out a long sigh. He drew his knees to his chest and dropped his head to his arms. For a while there was only silence in the room. Then, gradually, the sound of weeping emerged from the solitary occupant. Tim sobbed. He cried all the tears that Thom had not been able to shed. He cried the tears that Thom _had_ shed, suffering all the losses anew, all the sorrows. He thought his heart would break for the anguish he felt. He was himself and would stay that way, but he now knew _exactly_ what it had been like to be Thom, and that life had been a wreck. How long he cried, alone in the conference room, he didn't know, but he never heard the doorknob turn. Tim was so wrapped up in experiencing all that had been done that he was oblivious to any external stimuli. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and lifted a tear-streaked face to his visitor. He had expected Abby, but it wasn't.

"Hello, McGee."

Tim swallowed and took a deep shuddering breath. "Hello, Ziva. What do you want?"

Ziva sat down across from Tim and watched as he relaxed out of the posture of grief he'd been adopting. She was relieved when a faint blush suffused his face. That showed him to be Tim still.

"I wanted to see how you were doing. Tony said you wished to be alone."

"I did."

"Why?"

"I... I didn't want..." Tim looked down at his hands.

"You did not wish to be seen in mourning?"

"Mourning?"

"Yes, McGee. It is obvious from your face that you are in mourning. You grieve for someone."

Tim breathed in deeply again and said, "Yes. I was. I am."

"For whom do you grieve?"

"For Thom."

"But Thom is still alive, is he not?"

"In a sense, I guess he is. I remember his life as if I lived it... which I guess I did. And yet, it's not his death that is the worst."

"What is, then?"

"It's that... his life was so terrible that death was almost a relief. He didn't _want_ to die, but he couldn't live. It's a horrible feeling, Ziva... and I'm feeling it, even if it's not exactly my own emotion."

"I do not understand all of what has been happening, McGee, but I know one thing." She stood.

"What is that?"

"No one should mourn alone." She held out her hand. "We need you, McGee. We all need you back. If you must mourn, let us mourn with you."

Tim looked at her hand for a few seconds. Then, he nodded and reached out a shaking hand and placed it in hers. Ziva was forced to exert a lot more effort to get Tim upright than she had expected. Recent events had weakened him considerably and she had to take that into account. Once he was standing, however, he walked on his own. At the door, Tim stopped and took another breath, trying to hold back another rush of tears.

He shook his head and laughed a little. "Thom's been dead a long time," he explained when Ziva looked at him, a question in her eyes. "I shouldn't feel like this..."

"But?"

"But no one else will. No one missed him. The only people who acknowledged his existence were the ones who hurt him."

"And you as well," Ziva said, firmly. "You miss him now."

"Yes."

"Good." She grabbed his hand again. "Now, come out of this room or I will..."

Tim interrupted wearily, "...or you'll kill me in painful and inventive ways."

Ziva smiled evilly and dropped his hand. "Or worse, I will tell Abby that you no longer enjoy her company."

"You wouldn't."

"Do you wish to make a wager, McGee?" Ziva asked.

Tim imagined Abby's reaction; even if it were cleared up quickly, there would be a painful period of re-education in that style which was uniquely Abby. Ziva strode out ahead, forcing Tim to stagger after her.

"I'm coming, Ziva. Don't you dare!" Tim panted.

After a few more steps, Ziva stopped and allowed Tim to catch up. As proof of his total exhaustion, as he drew level with her, Tim grabbed her arm and bent over, gasping for breath. Surprised, Ziva put her arm around Tim's waist to keep him from collapsing.

"McGee, you need to go to the gym more."

Still gasping, Tim laughed. "I think I need more than that."

"Such as?"

"Such as a good night's sleep, a chance to go for more than an hour without having a mental breakdown. It's the little things that make all the difference."

"Those are not _little_ things."

"As long as I don't find out that there's _another_ person in my head, they will be. I'm okay now."

"Are you sure, McGee?"

Tim eased himself out of her grasp and nodded. Ziva could tell that he wanted to show everyone that he really was himself again by not leaning on her. She could also see that he was dreading seeing the whole team again. She wasn't sure of the reason, but she knew it had to do with Thom... as everything had in the last few days. They weren't back to normal yet, although figuring out what exactly constituted _normal_ in this place was a trick in and of itself.

"We're going to the bullpen, aren't we?"

"No."

"Why not?" Tim slowed his pace.

"Security." Ziva kept walking.

"Ziva..." Tim put his hand on her arm again. "What happened?"

"Tanner is dead."

Now, Tim stopped walking completely. What little color had returned to his face was quickly lost. "H-how?"

"Someone shot him through the window when he was standing by Gibbs' desk." Her voice took on a faint tone of admiration. "One shot, right through the head."

"So, you're all worried about Sarah being next?"

"Or _you_, McGee. We don't know if they are aware that you are still alive... and functioning. Tanner was surprised, but he may not have been told."

Tim shook his head in disbelief. "Why don't I feel bad about that?"

"Because he deserved to die and the only bad thing about his death is that it happened so quickly."

"I suppose so." They both fell silent as they reached the elevator. What more was there to say? Ziva was glad that Tim didn't notice where they were headed because he wasn't going to be happy about it. In his distraction, Tim didn't pay attention to their location until they were at the door of Jenny's office.

"In here?" Tim gulped.

"No, McGee. I am giving you a tour of NCIS headquarters." She grabbed his arm tightly when he took an unconscious step backwards. "Of course, in here. It is secure. No place better... except maybe MTAC."

"Is-is Director Shephard in there?"

"It _is_ her office, McGee."

Tim visibly tensed and took a hesitant step toward the door. Sure, it had all been done against his will and without his knowledge, but that didn't change the fact that he had been feeding information to people outside the agency for his entire tenure at NCIS.

Ziva propelled him the rest of the way to the door. "Go on, McGee. You are wasting time."

He didn't allow himself to think about it any longer. Ziva would probably kill him if he did. Instead, Tim squared his shoulders, rapped on the door and then entered.

"McGee! Tim, you're okay!" Predictably, Abby was the first to react to his presence. She had been in the middle of explaining something but dropped it all and grabbed him in a fierce hug.

"Yes, Abby, I'm okay." Tim tried vainly to extricate himself from her embrace. "Abby... you can let go. ...Please, Abby?"

"Okay, Tim. I'll finish with _you_ later," she said suggestively.

Tim blushed bright red, both at her words and at the level of scrutiny he was currently undergoing from the other occupants in the room. He didn't know what to say.

"Agent McGee." The imperious voice of the director made him flinch.

"Yes, Director?"

"Are you feeling better?" She was still looking at him sternly.

"Yes, Director."

"Then, the fact that you look ready to collapse is just a new look for you?"

Tim opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

Jenny's face softened. "Oh, for goodness sake, sit down, McGee." She pointed to an empty chair and Tim plopped down into it, gratefully. "There will be time for questions later. Abby, you were saying?"

Abby stopped looking at Tim and refocused her attention. "Oh, right." She brought up her results on the screen. "The bullet is your typical anti-personnel favored by snipers, a 51 mm. It has some unique striations, but they don't fit any recorded in our database. The cigarette butts have DNA, but again there's no record of it."

"Is that all, Abby?"

"No, Director," Abby said smiling. "I only said that the striations weren't in _our_ database."

"Abby," Gibbs said in frustration.

"Okay, okay, Gibbs. The same striations turned up in an unsolved homicide last year." She pulled up the bullet for comparison. "It was a similar situation, but I guess they goofed."

"Why?"

"Well..." She brought up another photo, "because they left the gun behind, although it did disappear from lockup after awhile."

Gibbs stood up and walked closer to the screen. "The striations are the same?"

"_Exactly_ the same, Gibbs. I got the police report and all the evidence photos. It's a modified version of the XM110 Semi-Automatic Sniper System."

"Modified by whom?"

She shrugged. "It's not the military, if that's what you're asking. They just started putting it into use this last year in Afghanistan, but it's been in development since 2005. If we're working off the assumption that the people who killed Tanner are part of this secret group, then, it's likely that Julianne Coles was a target of the same group."

"Coles?" Sarah asked, a feeling of dread growing inside of her.

"The murder victim." Abby pulled up the case file. "She must have been one of their..." she glanced at Tim, "...uh..."

"Creations," Tim said, without expression.

"Yeah." She cleared her throat. "Here she is. Did you ever see her, Sarah? Sarah?"

Tim took his eyes off of the photo of Julianne Coles and focused on his sister. Her expression hadn't changed, but it was frozen in place.

"Sarah, what is it?" he asked in concern.

In a voice devoid of expression, Sarah answered, "That woman was my... one of my assignments."

Gibbs looked at the photo again. He was the only one who knew about this since everyone else had been involved elsewhere. "Is this the woman you told me about? The one you tried to save?"

Sarah gave a humorless laugh. "Yes. Julianne Coles was the name of her original personality. I told her everything when I tried to... save her. She must have either believed me or remembered on her own... and they found her." She looked away from the photo and at Gibbs. "I told you that they don't try to hide it when they kill someone. It took them a while, but they found her."

"Do you know who would have done it?"

"No. There are a few teams. I've been part of them on occasion." At the looks everyone was giving her, she continued defensively, "I _told_ you that I've killed before. Did you think that I just kidding or that I took it into my head to murder someone on a whim?" She couldn't bear to look at Tim. This was something a bit deeper that he had expected, she was sure and seeing his expression was not high on her list of priorities. "They work in threes. One leader and the other two as backup. They're always ready to wait it out. The team that killed Tanner most likely had two guns set up. The lead would take the first shot. If by some quirk of fate, he missed, the backup would take the second shot. If they both missed, they'd pack up and wait for another opportunity at a different location... but they never miss twice."

Shifting the attention off Sarah, Gibbs asked Abby, "So, is there any way of tracking down where this gun was made?"

"We could try going to Knights Armament Co., the people who got the contract to manufacture the XM110, but the way it's been modified indicates that either they have someone who works for the company to construct and modify it or else they have enough connections to purchase them and modify the weapons themselves. Either way, whatever happened wouldn't have been directly related to the company itself."

"There is one other option," Sarah said.

"What's that?" Gibbs asked. "Can you take us to wherever the headquarters are?"

She shook her head. "No. Blaser changes it regularly to avoid detection. No, what I meant was that we know of one other person who is still on the list."

Tim caught on before anyone else did. "No, Sarah," he said. "No. That's not an option."

Still not meeting his gaze, she shook her head. "On the contrary, Tim. It's the best option we have. If I go outside, they'll catch up to me eventually and you'll have a chance to follow them back to wherever they report in."

"What's the guarantee that they'll report in directly after? Couldn't they just do so by phone?" Gibbs asked.

"They could, but they won't. Procedure is to report in person upon completion. Blaser likes to know exactly how things are going. He won't leave it to chance."

Tim started levering himself out of the chair he'd been sitting in. "No! You can't. If Blaser won't leave things to chance, why are you willing to?"

Finally, Sarah met Tim's eyes. However he'd been looking at her before, the only thing she could see now was fear, not for his own safety, but for hers. He was afraid she'd die. She walked around the table and gently pushed him back down into the chair. "This is the only way, Tim. I'm _not_ twenty years old. I know what's going on, and _I'm_ the one Blaser wants out of the way. It is the only workable solution."

"Except that it's not workable." Tim stood up again and, ignoring the presence of his colleagues, he threw his arms around her and hugged her close. He whispered, softly enough that only she could hear, "Sarah, I've already lost two families. Don't make it three. Please. I couldn't bear it if I lost you, too."

She whispered back, "It's nice to hear you say that, Tim, but there are bigger things going on than me and you." She pulled back and deliberately moved away from him. "Well, Gibbs?" she asked.

He was silent, considering her plan.

Sarah pointed to the image of Julianne on the screen. "She was my assignment a long time ago. If they found her after more than a decade, they'll find me eventually anyway. This way, at least we'll all be ready for it... and some good can come from it."

Gibbs looked at Tim, taking in the horrified look on his face. He wished he'd had time to talk with him, to see how he was really doing, before this meeting. He just couldn't tell how well everything had gone. Ziva had acted concerned but not overly-so. Tony had been worried but had said Tim was himself again. Gibbs needed to talk to him himself. Later.

"Okay," Gibbs said finally, ignoring Tim's open mouth. "Sarah, we'll get you wired up. If you see any signs, make sure you mark them for us. We need to be able to follow those people in order for this to work."

She nodded.

"I'm going with you," Tim said.

"What? No, Tim. They may not know you're alive," Sarah said.

"Am I supposed to stay inside this building for the rest of my life, then? I don't think so." Tim stood up again, swayed a little, but found his footing and continued. "Even if they don't know, look at Julianne Coles," he pointed to the photograph. "Don't you think she assumed she was safe? At least right now, I _know_ that I won't be safe. If we can get this over with, then I can get on with my life. I'm not just going to sit here and wait to hear if you got killed, Sarah." He then turned his gaze from Gibbs to Jenny. "I _won't_. Not even if you make it an order."

Gibbs and Jenny exchanged a look. They _both_ needed to talk to this new Tim. It was silly to think that he wouldn't be affected by what had happened, but this was a different side of him, and they needed to see just how different he had become.

"Fine," Gibbs said in a tone that implied _for now_. He shifted his gaze to four of the occupants. "Sarah, you go with Abby and start giving some descriptions of the people you know who might be involved... including Blaser. Ziva, Tony, you two go with her and then start prepping. We won't start tonight. I'd rather do this kind of thing in daylight if possible. Ducky's still working on the autopsy, but I doubt we'll get much more from him." Everyone started to leave, including Tim.

"McGee. Stay here," Jenny said.

He hesitated and then nodded, sinking back into the chair. To his surprise, Gibbs left with everyone else, leaving him alone with his ultimate boss. That was a terrifying thought and his hands unconsciously clenched the arms of the chair. He watched Jenny close the door with a finality that frightened him. What was going to happen to him now?


	27. The Interview Part I

**Chapter 26: The Interview Part I**

"Relax, Agent McGee. I don't bite... usually."

He gave a weak smile, but his heart wasn't in it.

Jenny could tell as she sat down across from him that he was afraid of her reaction to his unwilling treachery. She kept the smile off her face, but did try not to look threatening. Their last few encounters had not been positive, and she didn't blame him for being afraid.

"Agent McGee, Gibbs has kept me apprised of how the case has been progressing."

"Has he?" Tim asked weakly.

"Yes, and I have to tell you that..." she paused briefly, "...I'm relieved to find that your role in this has been an unconscious one."

"Then... then, you don't think... that I..."

"No, McGee. I don't think that you ever intended to give out information."

With a sigh of relief, some of the tension ebbed from Tim's body.

"However, I do need to be sure that such an action cannot happen again in the future."

"But, Tanner's dead. How can you verify it?"

"For now, by me asking you some questions."

"How can you be sure I'm answering honestly though? I mean, I will, but I thought I was being honest before."

"One step at a time, McGee."

Tim swallowed hard. "Okay."

Jenny smiled encouragingly. "What can you tell me about what happened, about what the, uh, _late_ Dr. Tanner did to you?" The way she spoke indicated that she felt very little remorse that Tanner had died in NCIS custody. Tim wished that he wasn't so conflicted about it.

"Well, I'm not sure exactly _what_ he did. I never saw any of the equipment when it was working."

"No, McGee. I mean, what you experienced yourself."

"Oh," Tim hesitated. "It's hard to explain. I'm not sure how much of it was real and how much was just a dream... I mean, it was _all_ in my head, but... some of it was... actually happening... I guess..." he trailed off lamely.

"What do you remember?"

"I remember, er, speaking with Thom... sort of. He wasn't exactly _there_. He was asking me to remember."

"Remember what?"

"Remember him. And I do. I remember... _everything_ about him."

Something in the way Tim emphasized the word sparked Jenny's interest. "Explain," she said.

"I..." Goodness this was difficult. "I have all his memories, I guess. I remember his life... and mind, only his is real and mine is not." Tim didn't like saying that. It was disturbing and made him feel incredibly antsy. He understood it, but it was still hard to believe that his life really _was_ as much of a lie as Gibbs had said before.

"Does that mean you are both Thom Gemcity _and_ Tim McGee?" This was an important question, he could see.

Tim pondered the question, wanting to answer honestly, but not sure he could actually explain it in words that accurately conveyed what he was now. "I don't think so... I don't know. It's not like having multiple personalities, if that's what you're asking. I'm Tim and that's who I'll always be, but I know what it was like to be Thom as well."

Jenny looked uncommonly serious again. "Answer me honestly, Agent McGee," she said, "do you have _any_ concerns about being able to fulfill your duties as a field agent?"

Tim was quiet. He thought back to the memories he had of Thom and felt the momentary rush of too many flooding in at once. They were there, but, right now, _he_ was in control, not Thom.

He looked at Jenny and surprised her by smiling sheepishly. "No more than I always have, Director Shephard."

She returned the smile. "Alright then, Agent McGee. Seeing as you are still very obviously not back to full form after your ordeal, I'm restricting you to desk duty..." she saw his mouth open to protest and overrode him, "...except for those times which have already been discussed. That will be at Agent Gibbs' discretion. Upon complete recovery, I have no further qualms to reinstating you as a special agent at NCIS."

Tim's mouth opened again, but at first no sound came out. Then, he smiled in disbelief. "Really? Really?"

"Yes, really, Agent McGee."

"Wow. Oh, thank you, Director. Thank you so much." Tim winced inwardly at the way he was gushing but he couldn't help it.

"You're welcome, McGee. You may go. I'm sure Gibbs will be wanting to speak with you as well." Jenny walked to her desk, sat down and proceeded to ignore Tim's continued presence. He hardly noticed his own lightheadedness as he stood and ambled to the door.

As soon as he reached the spot where he could overlook the bullpen, however, he sobered. Tim saw the spot where the bullet had shattered the glass and worse, the spot where Tanner had died... by Gibbs' desk. Gibbs looked up and saw Tim standing motionless on the balcony. He caught Tim's eye and gestured to the elevator. Tim swallowed hard and did as he was bid. He stepped on the elevator, another feeling of dread gripping him. The last time he had seen Gibbs alone was in interrogation and he had been an accused traitor. What did Gibbs want now?


	28. The Interview Part II

**Chapter 27: The Interview Part II**

As soon as Gibbs stepped onto the elevator, Tim was gripped with an intense desire to jump off and find Sarah. He needed to know that she was okay, that something hadn't happened. It was almost overwhelming and it was only with great effort that he didn't dodge around Gibbs to get out. He wasn't sure where that feeling had come from. He already _knew_ where Sarah was. She and Ziva and Tony were working out the logistics for tomorrow... so why was he so worried? He was so involved in trying to decipher his feelings that he didn't even notice when Gibbs stopped the elevator, nor when he began speaking to him.

"McGee!" Gibbs whacked Tim to get his attention. He watched with interest as Tim reconnected with the outside world. There was something different in his eyes... just for a moment and then it was gone and Tim was back.

"Yes, Boss?"

"Now, I'm only going to say this once; so pay attention," he said gruffly, trying to mask his own emotions.

"Yes, Boss." Tim's eyes opened wide, obviously expecting a dressing down for something or other.

"I'm sorry."

Tim's brow furrowed in confusion. "For what?"

"McGee. I know these last couple of days have been rough, but I'd assume you remember how this all started."

"Of course, Boss. But...you were right. You had every right to accuse me because..." he winced at the admission and continued, spitting the words out in a rush, "...because I really did everything that you thought I did."

"No, McGee. I did _not_ have the right to treat you like I did. I felt betrayed and I assumed that you had been playing us for four years. I was angry as much at myself as I was at you. I was wrong to treat you so badly. I'm sorry."

Tim was embarrassed. Having Gibbs apologize for being right... just felt wrong. He searched for something to say and fell back on doing what Tony did. He tried to make a joke.

"I thought you were only going to say it once, Boss," he said and flinched, expecting another smack to the back of his head... or was that it?

Gibbs saw that strange flicker in his eyes again. He had been about to whack Tim again for his impudence, but that flicker stopped him. What was it? It happened so quickly that he couldn't be sure.

"Obviously, you needed to hear it more than once for it to penetrate."

Tim tried to smile, but he was feeling more and more ill-at-ease in this box, this crowded metal... cage. He really _really_ wanted to get out, to get... away. It was such a foreign feeling to him that he tried to analyze it, to figure out what was causing it.

"Was that it, Boss?"

"No," Gibbs said and was silent, watching Tim's face. Jenny was quite straightforward when it came to reading people, but Gibbs preferred to just watch. It didn't matter who they were; they always gave something away. The pressure of continued silence made the mask drop, even if it only lasted for a second. Tim was afraid. That was different. Gibbs knew that he made Tim nervous on a regular basis, but he'd been overcoming that in the last few years. Even when he'd been in his face about the murder case involving Sarah... or rather especially in that case, Tim had been nervous but resolute. He didn't back down. No, Gibbs didn't scare Tim anymore... until now. Now, something scared him. He watched as Tim unconsciously backed away, almost to the wall, stopping just short of it.

"What's wrong, McGee?"

"Wrong, Boss? Nothing's wrong," Tim said, but at the same time, in his head, he was screaming with the desire to get out of the elevator, to get away from... from Gibbs, but it wasn't Gibbs exactly. It was what Gibbs represented.

"Well, that much hasn't changed. You still can't lie convincingly, McGee. What is it?" Gibbs still stared intently at him.

Now, there was more than one kind of fear in Tim's eyes. It was an awareness of an emotion he couldn't control and couldn't explain. His eyes met Gibbs' and he just shook his head wordlessly.

"Think it through, McGee. You're terrified of something right now, and I'd like to know what it is."

"So..." The words stuck in Tim's throat. He cleared it and tried again. "So would I, Boss, but I don't know."

"Then, think it through. Is it me?"

Tim shook his head. "Not, not exactly. It's the, the situation, I guess." He was obviously fighting something. He was struggling to keep his breathing even. "It's you, but it's not you." His eyes shifted and flicked around the elevator. "It's..." A memory clicked into place, suddenly. As soon as he remembered it, it had always been there.

"There-there were people who–" Tim was suddenly fighting back tears. "–people who made my... Thom's... life a living hell. They took... what little I, I mean, Thom, had. They-they..." A single tear traced the line of Tim's jaw and he bit his lip as he tried to control himself. Gibbs just watched and listened. "Once, I, Thom was living in a shelter. They-they found... him there and beat me... I mean, _Thom_ up. Then, they locked... _him_ in a storage closet. No one heard me... _him_ for more than a day. Or if they did hear, they ignored it. He-he came in once and he...he..." Tim had wedged himself into a corner of the elevator and had forgotten to control the tears. He was having trouble separating himself from Thom's memories. They were _his_ now. "It wasn't good, and they ended up kicking me out of the shelter," he finished, skipping over an explicit description of what had happened.

Gibbs suddenly understood. He turned around and flipped the switch for the elevator, without a word being spoken. As the elevator sprang into life again, he paid attention to the sounds Tim was making behind him. Deep even breaths as he regained control. Gibbs found himself filled with an impotent rage at whoever had made Tim react that way. The chances of finding such a man were slim to none, even if he were still alive after ten years or so. That just made the anger worse. The elevator stopped at the morgue level. As they stepped off, Gibbs turned around and stopped Tim who had managed to suppress whatever emotions had been taking over.

"How often do you think this kind of thing will happen, McGee?"

Drained yet again, by his experience, Tim just shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I felt the emotions before I even had the memory of where they came from. They're all in my head, Boss, but I can't tell you every single significant event... anymore than I could do it for myself. I... I hope it won't happen again, but I don't know." His eyes widened. "I just told Director Shephard that there wouldn't be any problems. What if I'm wrong? What if I-I freeze up because of something like... like that?"

Gibbs didn't answer for about a minute. He just considered the question. No doubt Thom had had plenty of traumatizing experiences in his life. Just how many would adversely affect Tim in doing his job was up in the air. But could he still trust Tim? Absolutely. Tim had worked through it and he had managed to express himself without simply panicking. That was important.

"I said before that I trusted you, McGee. That's still the case. If, or when, you run into something like that, tell one of us; so we know. Don't pretend it didn't happen because we can't take whatever steps are necessary if we don't know what's going on. Clear?"

"Clear, Boss."

"Now, Ducky said he had something for you. Feel free to join up with the others when you're done down here."

"Okay." Tim nodded, but as he got back on the elevator, Gibbs could see that the experience had shaken him and his self-confidence. Tim's weakest asset in the best of circumstances.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hello? Ducky?" Tim said hesitantly as he walked into the morgue. The feeling of dread had settled on him again, but this time, he knew why. Thom's memory of identifying his parents was deeply troubling, but knowing it was there helped him put the trauma aside. Even so, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. Then, he happened to look around and saw Tanner laying out on a slab, his innards open to the world. Tim swallowed convulsively, trying to keep down the bile rising in his throat.

"Oh, hello, Timothy." Ducky said as he wandered out of the freezer. His apron was blood-spattered and his gloves looked no better. Tim felt the nausea building up to critical mass. "You don't look very well."

Tim briefly debated trying to answer him but rejected that idea in favor of heaving his guts out into a nearby trash can. There wasn't much in his stomach as he hadn't had a whole lot of time for eating, but the feeling was still there. Ducky was by him in an instant.

"Oh, dear. I have you, Timothy," Ducky said in concern. Tim hadn't thrown up in autopsy in a very long time.

Tim straightened again, wiping his mouth and shaking.

"How are you feeling?" Ducky asked as he led Tim to a seat.

"I've felt better, Ducky."

"That much is obvious. May I ask what brought it on?"

Tim _really_ didn't want to go through another stammered and inaccurate explanation of what was going on in his head. It didn't help and it was incredibly awkward for him.

"Just autopsy. I've never liked it. Gibbs said you had something for me."

Ducky sensed that Tim wasn't being honest, but that he didn't want to talk about it. He was relieved enough that Tim was himself again to not press the point. Instead of grilling him, he removed his bloody apron and gloves.

"Yes, Tanner gave me something for you."

"What would Tanner have for _me_?" Tim asked in confusion.

"I don't know. He said it was only for you. I respected both his privacy and yours. Feeling better?"

Tim nodded and Ducky was relieved to note that the color was returning to his face.

"Yes."

"Good. Here's the note."

Tim looked at it and then squinted. "He has terrible writing."

"He's a doctor, Timothy. We have classes in writing badly," he quipped. "It looks like Dr. Tanner must have had very good grades."

Tim smiled in response. "So can you read doctor writing?"

"Of course."

"Then, would you translate this scribble for me?" Tim asked and held out the opened letter.

"Are you sure? This could be personal."

Tim gave a heartfelt sigh. "Ducky, after all that's happened, privacy is really low on my list of things to get back."

Ducky patted him on the shoulder and then read the note.

"Timothy, I stand by what I said before. You have undoubtably the best mind of any I have worked on. I also stand by my claim that Thom had no future. If you truly remember all that happened to him, then you will surely agree." Ducky stopped for a moment and looked at Tim. He was staring off into space, not even appearing to be listening. "Even so, I will admit to a level of regret. When I told you Thom had nothing, it wasn't quite true. His personal effects are still in my private safe at my home. I think you should have them. No one else knows that I kept them as they are generally destroyed; so you shouldn't have to worry about anyone taking possession before you get there. The safe is located in my office behind my set of _DSMs_ on my bookshelf. There is a key inside the first manual, and the combination for the safe is 15-76-3-25. Whether you want them or not, they are yours... in fact as well as by my wishes."

"Why would he regret anything, Ducky?" Tim asked distantly. "He didn't feel guilty about _what_ he was doing. Why am I any different from his other... creations?"

"I guess you'll have to find out."

Tim shook his head and refocused. "You're right. I do need to find out. That's as good a reason as any," he mused.

"What?" Ducky asked.

"Nothing. I need to go talk to Sarah. Was there anything else, Ducky?" Tim stood up again.

Ducky watched him as he started to walk out the door. He wasn't exactly the same; he didn't trust as much and that was sad because Tim had always been the most trusting... most _innocent_ of the people on Gibbs' team, including himself and Abby.

"No, nothing else. I'm glad you're back, Timothy."

Tim stopped and turned back. For just a moment, there was a haunted shadow in his eyes, but it cleared and he smiled briefly. "Me, too, Ducky." Then, he resumed his trek and was gone.

Ducky looked over at Tanner's body. "I don't know how someone like yourself who claims to be doctor could destroy a life without guilt. I really don't, Dr. Tanner." He sighed and approached the table in order to finish his autopsy.


	29. Interlude Part I

**Chapter 28: Interlude Part I**

The girl who opened the door was short, barely over five feet. She was continually mistaken for a twelve-year-old even though she was almost twenty, like her best friend standing on her doorstep. Her friend was just shy of six feet and looked as though she could easily make a small misstep and squash her flat.

"What's up, O Long One? I thought you were visiting your parents this weekend," she said.

"I was. Let's go shopping, Cass."

"Shopping? Why? What happened?"

Cassie's friend looked close to tears. "Please, let's just go."

"Okay, okay. Let me get my purse." Cassie grabbed it and was out the door, taking two steps for every one of her friend's.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, tell me what's going on." They were wandering through the mall. So far, whatever was bothering her had not been explained.

"I asked Mom and Dad about my family again. They keep telling me that I don't really want to know, but I do! I just can't remember it." She sank down on a bench outside a bookstore.

"They told you that you were adopted and your family name. Couldn't you find that stuff on your own?"

"I could, but they keep saying that I shouldn't dig up my tragic past. That it won't do any good."

"Maybe they're right. Obviously, you agree with them a little bit because you haven't done _anything_ on your own."

"I know. Part of me is afraid. They're my _parents_, and this is the only thing they refuse to tell me. Who was I before they adopted me? What is so bad that they don't want to tell me?"

"Don't you remember anything? You were four. I remember things from when I was four years old."

She shrugged and leaned forward. "Sometimes, I get a glimpse of someone, but I'm not sure if it's a real memory or just a dream I had."

"So what happened this weekend that brought it up again?" Cassie asked. When she didn't answer, she asked again, "Liz? Lizzie? What happened?"

Liz pointed at the bookstore, at one of the displays for a bestseller that neither one of the history majors had wanted to read.

"_Deep Six_? Why..." she trailed off as she noticed the name of the author as if for the first time. "Gemcity. Didn't you tell me that was _your_ last name?"

Liz nodded. "What if that's a relative of mine?"

"Couldn't you just write to him and ask?"

"I have," she admitted ruefully. "No response. If he's as popular as he seems to be, he probably doesn't really read his own mail. He probably has someone who does all that for him."

"Have you done any looking around on the Internet for him?"

Liz shook her head. Cassie was exasperated.

"Elizabeth Luke! You are an adult. You are _not_ rejecting your parents by trying to find out where you came from." She stood up and grabbed Liz's hand, pulling her up as well. "We are going to buy a copy of _Deep Six_; then, we are going to go to the library and do a search. _You_ are going to find out where you came from so that you stop brooding. I want my best friend back... and then maybe you'll get a boyfriend, too."

Liz laughed as she allowed herself to be pulled into the bookstore. Cassie was right. She shouldn't let this drag her down. She just felt that as long as her parents tried to hide her origins, there was some dark secret in her life that, instead of simply being a part of who she was, became some sort of chain that kept her from moving on. She really did need to know.


	30. The Plan

**Chapter 29: The Plan**

"So I guess the only question now is where I'm going?" Sarah commented as she leaned back from the table.

"How about to Tanner's house?" a voice suggested.

Tony, Ziva and Sarah all looked around in surprise. Tim was standing in the doorway to the conference room. He was leaning against the doorframe, looking more tired than cool.

"Come on in and sit down, McGee. I don't want to pick you up off the floor," Tony said lightly.

Tim walked over to the table and sank into the nearest chair.

"What do you mean? Why would we go to Tanner's place?" Sarah asked.

"He left something for me there. I need to go and open his safe. It at least gives... _us_ a destination." The emphasis on _us_ was unmistakable. No one dared deny it.

"His wife may not want to let you in," Ziva observed.

Sarah laughed. "His wife? She won't be there."

"Why not?"

"She was Tanner's wife like I'm Tim's sister... only less so."

"I don't get it," Tony said.

Sarah leaned forward again, a smile still on her face. "She is his wife in name, but in fact and in practice, they were essentially roommates. They both work for Blaser and used the institution of marriage to lend an air of respectability to their residence in that neighborhood. A childless married couple, both seemingly obsessed with their careers, doesn't draw any attention. It's too common a situation. As soon as you two left with Tanner, she cleared out."

"Why didn't you mention this before?"

"Because she doesn't matter. The person that needs to be found is Blaser, and she wouldn't go to him."

"Why not?"

"Too dangerous. In situations like the one that has arisen, an employee is either brought in by the others or goes underground for a year before coming in by himself. That's how they prevent discovery. She'll have gone underground because there's a danger of being blamed for Tanner's arrest. After a year, she can point to the lack of investigation as proof of her loyalty and get reassigned."

"Interesting organization you worked for."

"You're telling me," Sarah said archly. Then, she turned to Tim again. Like Ducky and Gibbs, she caught a hint of a shadow in his eyes but dismissed it as irrelevant in the current situation. "You want to go to Tanner's place?"

"Yeah."

"Sounds fine to me. Are you sure you want to do this Tim?"

"Positive." There was no hesitation in his voice. If she was going out, so was he. "So, what's the plan?"

"Tomorrow, we'll wait until after rush hour. That'll make it easier to get around and follow people as needed," Sarah began. "I'll be wearing a wire and watching for anyone on the teams that might be chosen to get me. You and I will go out together. Now that we have a destination, we'll drive to Tanner's place and get into the safe."

"Tony and I will be following... _discreetly_," Ziva said with a glare at Tony who put on a face of angelic innocence. "And we will watch for anyone suspicious along with listening for anything Sarah has to say. Should an attack occur, you two will need to get out of the way quickly while Tony and I locate and follow the culprits."

Tony cut in, "Neither of you can make any attempt to follow. Stay where you are and leave the tailing to us. That's _our_ job. Your jobs are to be targets."

"I will be on the ground and Tony will be in the air, watching the rooftops while we are still in the Navy Yard."

Sarah shook her head. Tim got the feeling this was an argument they'd already had. "I still don't think that's necessary. They are unlikely to try the same tactic to get me that they did for Tanner. They _know_ that we'll be watching the rooftops. They probably won't even try while we're in the Navy Yard."

"Humor us, Sarah," Tony said with a sigh. "We aren't exactly novices at this type of thing."

"Well, neither am I, Tony, and these are my people. I know how they think."

"I know that, but _they_ know that, too. Who's to say they won't change their MO just because it's you they're gunning for?"

Sarah sighed and gave in. "Fine. Arguing with you two is really annoying."

Tony gave a snide grin. "I know."

She returned his grin with an exasperated smile. "Well, what now?"

"Now, we'll go and run all this past Gibbs, get the go ahead and then relax for awhile."

"McGee, you look..." Ziva pieced yet another idiom together, "...dead on your feet. You should get a full night's sleep."

Tim gave her the thumbs up for getting the saying correct, but said, "I'm going to go talk to Abby first. Then, I'll probably crash on her futon for one more night."

"Crash is right. Are you going to make it all the way down there, Probie?"

"I've made it this far," Tim said as he stood up again. "I can go for as long as I need to."

"Okay, but don't say I didn't try to warn you."

Tim smiled wearily, but started to walk to the door. He knew he'd make it even though he was dead tired. He could remember feeling this way before and yet being able to stay awake all night long... so that he didn't freeze to death in the cold.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Target has been eliminated, sir."

"Good. Thank you. Call in Jameson's team and have them move down to the next on the list."

"Sir?"

"What?"

"Beg pardon, sir, but aren't they already following the next person?"

"No. I will be taking care of that one, personally. I need them to head to London."

"Personally, sir?"

"Yes. Did you cover the house?"

"Yes, sir. Joanna is gone and there was nothing implicating left."

"Good. That will be all."

"Yes, sir."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Tim! You look terrible!" Abby shouted as Tim walked into her lab.

"So they tell me," he said quietly.

Abby threw herself at Tim, but instead of forcing him to hold her up, she wrapped her arms around his waist and supported him as she enfolded him in a tight hug.

"Just don't collapse, okay, Tim?" Abby said, her voice muffled by his shoulder. "I don't think I could hold you up by myself."

"I won't." Tim put his own arms around Abby and rested his head gently on hers. No matter how bad things got, there was always Abby. Unbidden, tears came into his eyes as another memory hit him. He tightened his grip, not wanting to let go.

"Tim? What is it?" Abby pulled back so that she could look at Tim's face. She brushed away a couple of stray tears which had escaped from his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Tim shook his head and turned away. "I'm just tired, Abby. Can I use your futon tonight?"

Abby grabbed his arm. "No, that's not it, Tim. You are not allowed to use my futon until you explain yourself."

"I don't know how to explain, Abby."

"Why not?"

"It's just not... normal," he said, finally.

Abby laughed gently and pulled Tim into her office. Then, she pushed him down onto her chair and said, "Tim. Look at me. Have you _ever_ at any moment in our acquaintance thought that I was normal?"

"No," he admitted.

"Now, I'll admit that your break with normality is significantly different than my own, but it's not like I haven't been here and seen what's gone on." Abby knelt down in front of him and took both his hands, squeezing them tightly. "Nothing you tell me could possibly make me feel any worse than I did when I thought you'd been lying to us all. Knowing that you are still you and that you never intended to betray us... that means that everything else doesn't matter. Just try to tell me, Tim."

Tim looked down at Abby's hands and then back into her eyes. Abby didn't lie to him... except for the times he'd asked her to. She wasn't lying now.

"I'm remembering things, things that happened to Thom."

"Wasn't that the idea?"

Tim dropped her hands and stood up, pacing back and forth in the office.

"Yeah, it was, but..." he stopped speaking in frustration. "I'm... _feeling_ what happened. It's as if it happened to me... which it did, but it didn't. I remember it happening to Thom, but I feel it as if it were me." Halting his relentless pacing, he looked at Abby who had stood up again and was watching him. "I don't know how to explain it, but a little while ago, I was talking to Gibbs and I was terrified."

"That's not exactly news, Tim. You've never been especially confident around Gibbs," Abby said, a smile creeping onto her face.

Tim did not smile. "That's just it, Abby. I'm not confident; I'm always nervous around him, but... he's never made me really afraid, not that way. And yet, I was terrified. I wanted to run away from him. I felt the emotions before I remembered why I felt that way. It was because of..." he stopped, unable to say the words still, not even to Abby. "...because of something that happened to Thom. And then, just now, I felt something else that was because of what happened to Thom. I just, I don't know how to control it, how to react because it's like... the memories are _real_, Abby. They're not fake, like the ones I call my own. But I can't just pretend that they didn't happen. My fake memories made me who I am, but these new memories. These are real, and they're changing me. I don't know if I _want_ to change into someone like Thom." The tears welled up again. "Nothing good happened to him."

Abby approached Tim cautiously. He was tense as a bowstring and trembling with exhaustion. She gingerly grabbed his arm and steered him toward her futon. She pushed him down onto it.

"I don't know what to say, Tim. You've experienced something that no one else has. I wish I could make it all go away, but I can't. Do you regret getting Thom's memories?"

Frightened and stressed as he was, the moment he was on the futon, Tim's eyes started to droop as the fatigue he'd been fighting all day took it's rightful place as the most important message Tim had to address.

"No," he said, eventually, his voice laced with weariness. "I'm just afraid of losing who I am."

Abby laid her head on Tim's chest and hugged him again. "You'll always be Tim. You'll change, but you'll _always_ be my geek."

Tim laughed and gave into the sleep that was closing his eyes.


	31. The Best Laid Plans

**Chapter 30: The Best-Laid Plans...**

"Hey, Ziva! Sarah!" Tony's excited whisper roused the two women from their sleep the next morning. No one had left NCIS the night before. Sarah, obviously, couldn't, and Tony and Ziva had decided to stay in case of any new developments.

"What is it, Tony?" Sarah asked groggily.

"Come here! Follow me! You've got to see this!" Tony was grinning from ear to ear as if Christmas had come early.

Sarah and Ziva looked at each other and shrugged. They got up and followed Tony down to the lab.

"What?" Ziva asked again.

"Shh! You'll wake them up!" Tony said quietly. He gestured toward the office and pointed to what had amused him so. They all smiled at the sight.

Abby and Tim were both asleep on the futon. Tim was on his back, snoring sonorously. Abby was tucked into the crook of his arm and sprawled across his chest, her mouth open and Bert clasped securely in her hands. What made it even more entertaining was the large, damp drool patch Abby had left on Tim's chest along with the position of Tim's hand that made it look as though he were feeling her up.

"I've already taken about ten pictures," Tony whispered, trying to hold in his laughter.

"Abby must have been very tired to not hear all that noise," Ziva commented as another loud snort escaped from Tim. "Should we wake them up?"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim reconnected with the waking world slowly. For a long moment, he didn't remember anything of what had been going on, of what had been happening to him. He was just himself and no one else. He let out a final snort as he became conscious and remembered all the recent events. It felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on him. There was so much to think about. Then, he realized that it wasn't the weight of the world, just the weight of Abby. There was also a cold spot on his chest which troubled him a little bit. He heard some snorts of repressed laughter and knew that he must have an audience. He groaned inwardly, but in a way it was nice not to have to think about Thom's traumatic life, but rather his own minor embarrassments. No sense in putting off the inevitable.

Tim opened his eyes. He was on his back. Great. That meant he'd been snoring. He shifted his gaze from the ceiling to his immediate surroundings. Sure enough, Abby was asleep on top of him. He suddenly noticed where his hand was... on Abby's rear end. He moved it quickly and heard the unmistakable sound of a group of people afflicted with the giggles. He'd never live this one down. Finally, he looked over by the door and saw Sarah, Tony and Ziva in paroxysms of laughter, made worse by his obvious embarrassment.

"Abby!" he said and shook her. "Abby! We're on display!" he said urgently.

It seemed an eternity with his sister and colleagues laughing before Abby woke up herself.

"What's so funny?" she asked, yawning.

"We are, Abby! Could you sit up, please?" Tim begged.

Abby lifted her head and saw their audience and grinned sheepishly. She sat up.

"I don't see what's so funny. I was tired!"

"Oh, Abby, let me show you what is so funny," Tony offered eagerly. He walked over to the futon, pulling out his phone in order to reveal the cause of their hilarity.

Abby blushed. "Oh, Tim, I drooled all over you!"

At her words, even Tim couldn't help but laugh. He sat up, brushing at the damp patch on his shirt.

"I guess there are worse things you could have been doing," he said. "What time is it?"

"About time to go, Tim," Sarah said, sobering quickly.

Tim nodded and noticed the sudden increase in the tension of the room.

"Our public awaits, sis," he said and stood up stretching. He still felt a little off, but the incredible lassitude he'd felt yesterday was gone. He was as ready for this as he could be.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That first step out the doors of NCIS Headquarters was undoubtably the most frightening Tim had ever experienced. Taking the second step and then the third and fourth without injury made the whole thing seem kind of anticlimactic.

"Any sign?" Tony's voice came over Sarah's wire.

"No. Not a sign that I can see. I'll let you know, Tony. You don't have to keep checking in."

"No personal vendettas, Sarah?" Tony asked.

"Perhaps, but not in this case. I'll follow the plan. Will you?"

"Of course," he answered, sounding affronted. Tim glanced briefly at the building from which Tony was keeping watch. He was standing with his hands on his hips and Tim could just imagine the wounded face he was putting on.

"Perhaps, after this is over, you and I could... _talk_."

"Over my dead body, DiNozzo," Tim interrupted.

"Come on, it's not like she's really even your sister, Probie. And she's not even much younger than you," Tony retorted. "I'll bet she could wipe the floor with you if she wanted."

Tim glanced at Sarah and winked to keep her from taking this seriously. "Of course she could. She's also a whole lot smarter than to take up with someone like you."

"Oh, I'm hurt, Probie. Can't she speak for herself? She seems capable."

Sarah smiled wickedly and answered, "I'm perfectly capable, Tony. It's just that Tim was giving all the right answers. I didn't see any reason to give a repeat."

"Doubly wounded," Tony groaned.

"Shut up, Tony," came Ziva's voice. "You're tying up the connection with your silliness. Sarah won't go on a date with you. I have brought her up to speed on your dating preferences."

During this exchange, Sarah and Tim reached the entrance to the Navy Yard and saw their waiting taxi. Sarah scrutinized the driver carefully and nodded her approval, ignoring Tony and Ziva's continued bantering. They got in and rode to Tanner's house.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Did all this come from Tanner working for your group?" Tim asked in amazement as they stood in the empty foyer of Tanner's home.

"Don't forget that he was a doctor in his own right, Tim, but yes, a lot of this probably came from his work with Blaser." Sarah looked a little ashamed as she went on. "Not everything this group does is for the cause of patriotism. Some of it is for the cause of the cause." At Tim's blank look, she explained, "It costs quite a bit to do this kind of work. Some of the information they get is financial."

"Oh."

There was an awkward pause; then, Sarah cleared her throat and walked to the left. "His study is in here."

"Okay." Tim followed her and paused when he walked into the office and looked around. It seemed to be _all_ bookshelves.

"Well?" Tony's voice came over the wire again.

"We're inside. It's vacant," Sarah reported tersely.

"No sign of anyone suspicious out here. Pick up the pace."

"Why?"

"Because, _I_ do not like this plan anymore," Ziva put in. "Something is going to go wrong."

"Of course it will with that attitude, Ziva," Tony taunted.

Sarah and Tim looked at each other and shrugged.

"What are we looking for, Tim?" Sarah asked, not bothering to answer Tony and Ziva.

"Um, we're supposed to be looking for his set of _DSM_s. Tanner wrote that they were on the bookshelf, but I don't know which one it is."

"Hmmm..." Sarah looked around, scanning each shelf. "It will probably be near his desk, not on an outside wall. I'd guess this one." She walked over to her chosen wall and began to look over the books. Tim shrugged and looked at the other wall of shelves. Then, he had a thought and looked back toward the desk. Just to the right of it was a little niche, with built-in shelves on it. They looked as though they were thicker than they appeared at first glance. He began to scan the shelves and then, as he had suspected, the _DSM_s loomed in his eyes. Now that he saw how big they were, he wondered how he had missed them.

"I found them, Sarah!" He knelt down and tugged the first volume off the shelf. As the note had indicated, there was a key taped inside the front cover. He removed it while Sarah pulled the other volumes away, revealing the promised safe.

"Huh," Sarah said musingly. "He never mentioned this to anyone. I wonder what he's hiding in there."

"Something of mine, apparently." Tim said and turned the combination lock, reading the numbers off the note Tanner had written. Then, he put the key in the lock and turned it. Involuntarily, his hand began to shake. What was he going to find in there?

"Do you want me to open it, Tim?" Sarah asked, gently.

Tim took a deep breath and shook his head. "No, this is _my_ past. I need to face it head-on." He pulled open the safe. It was full of paper. He looked at Sarah who stared back blankly.

"_I_ don't know what's in there," she said.

Tim pulled out the whole stack and started to leaf through it, trying to find whatever it was that Tanner had set aside of Thom's. About halfway through the pile, he found a sandwich bag. Tim took a hold of it and stood up, forgetting the rest of the paper which slid off his lap into a disorganized heap on the floor.

"This is it," he whispered. Sarah stayed on the floor, sensing that Tim needed to look through that small bag by himself first. He wandered over to the desk and sat down on the chair. There were three things in the bag: a weathered and worn photograph, an equally-worn business card which was folded up inside a $100 bill. One by one, he pulled them out and examined them.

The photograph was one of his family, or rather of Thom's family. They were standing in front of a small house, all smiling and waving at the camera. He ran his fingers over the picture as Thom's memories of growing up flashed through his mind. "Mom... she was an artist. Dad... was a... a professor." Tears filled his eyes as his gaze lingered on the little girl sitting on Thom's shoulders. "Lizzie," he said.

Sarah watched Tim as the memories of Thom's once-happy family slid into place. It was painful, knowing that he had lost it all... and worse, knowing that they didn't really have that connection, no matter how much they both tried to make it so.

Tim set the photograph aside and picked up the $100, as well as the business card. He read it silently, but paled. "This is what Tanner meant." He looked up at Sarah who stared at him in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Tanner said that I hadn't, that _Thom_ hadn't quite lost everything. This is what he meant."

"What is it, Tim?"

"The man who gave me the hundred dollars in the park. He put his business card inside the bill. He was an accountant. It's like he was wanting to help me more than just that night." Tim looked horrified. "Thom's life maybe could have picked up. There could have been more for him... until... until _my_ life squashed his!" Tim stood up and walked over to Sarah. "I've been... relying on the fact that Thom had no other option anyway, that his life wasn't getting any better, but..." he held up the card, almost accusingly, but his anger was not directed at Sarah. "...but he had a chance for more... and now, that's all gone."

Sarah put out her hand to grab his arm, but he backed away, his anger bubbling to the surface. There was a strong undercurrent of guilt surged beneath it.

"No! I don't want hear that it's not my fault and that I couldn't have done anything! It doesn't matter that I had no choice. Thom didn't have any choice either and he lost _everything_. He's dead, Sarah! His real life in exchange for the lie that's _my_ life." He turned toward the door and fell silent.

Sarah stood helplessly watching him. She didn't know what to say, if there was anything that could make him feel better. She knew Tim was remembering more of who Thom was, but he hadn't shared it with her, nor had he with anyone else, that she knew of. He was bottling it up inside, not trusting his friends to understand, not trusting her.

"Tim?"

He shook his head firmly. When he turned around, his face was inscrutable. He could have given Sarah lessons in hiding emotions.

"Let's pick up those files and take them with us. Maybe there's something useful in them."

Sarah wanted to say something, but Tim locked eyes with her and shook his head again. She saw that peculiar shadow flicker in his eyes again.

"Okay."

They picked up the scattered files in silence and jammed them all into Tim's bag. Tim put Thom's possessions in his pocket.

"We're," Sarah cleared her throat and started over, "We're on our way out, Tony."

"Did you find anything interesting?"

Sarah winced even though Tony couldn't see her. "Some. We'll tell you back at NCIS. All clear?"

"There's some guy walking down the street next to a lady with a stroller. Ziva's watching them."

"No suspicious activity so far," Ziva reported. "I will be watching them until they are out of sight."

Sarah nodded to Tim and they left the house together. At the end of the walk, they paused as the man and the woman passed by them. They were both surprised when the man nodded to the woman and then stopped and turned around.

"Well, this _is_ a surprise," he said, pleasantly, looking Tim up and down.

"What is? I don't believe I know you," Tim said. He looked at Sarah whose brow was furrowed as though she was trying to place the man. He tensed, wondering if this could be part of the team assigned to kill her.

"Well, you certainly never saw me, Thom, or I guess you're Timothy now, aren't you?"

Sarah's eyes opened wide. "Blaser!"

"I can't believe it took you so long to recognize me, Sarah. It's been awhile I guess." He made a casual gesture with his free hand which drew their gazes to the gun barely poking out of his jacket. "I decided that I wanted to take care of this personally."

"Why? You never get your hands dirty," Sarah spat at him, hiding her fear behind her disgust.

"Well, it's not every day that I'm betrayed by two members of my company at the same time. Besides, I have a vested interest in you."

Tim looked around wildly, wondering where in the world Ziva and Tony were, why they weren't swooping down on them, guns blazing.

"Why is that?" Sarah asked, keeping her voice even, although she was wondering the same thing as Tim.

"Your wire is out of commission, just so you know. I don't arrange meetings like this without controlling every aspect of the exchange," Blaser said, still smiling. "But to answer your question, I don't take betrayal lightly, Jane, particularly not from family."

Sarah's face drained to white at the name Blaser used. "No," she whispered, "that's impossible."

"I assure you, it's not." The smile was gone and an evil look flashed across Blaser's face. "Now, I have to thank you both for coming out at the same time. Saves me a lot of trouble. By the way, how did you survive, Timothy? I don't believe anyone has before... except for Julianne Coles, of course. You'll have heard about her?"

Sarah didn't respond. She seemed to be in shock.

"I guess I'm just stronger than you anticipated," Tim said. He was shaking although he tried to hide it. This man put him in mind of the people who had tormented him as Thom years ago.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Suddenly, Blaser seemed tired of conversation. He pointed the gun at Sarah and pulled the trigger three times in quick succession. She staggered back with a soft exclamation and a look of surprise on her face.


	32. Interlude Part II

**Chapter 31: Interlude Part II**

"I must be crazy, Cassie." Liz said as she leaned back from the computer in Cassie's room. "Mom and Dad are going to _kill_ me."

"You got your ticket?"

"Yes." She swivelled back and forth on the chair. "Am I doing the right thing? If he hasn't looked for me all this time... what if he doesn't _want_ to know?"

Cassie grabbed the chair. "He is your _brother_, Liz. That article said that he loved you."

"Then, why did he leave? Why didn't he come with me?"

Cassie shrugged. "I don't know. That's something you can ask him."

"His publisher probably won't even help me."

"You have nothing to lose."

"Nothing but my dignity," Liz groaned and started to swivel again.

"Liz, don't you want to know who your brother has turned into?" Cassie asked seriously.

"I know what he's turned into." Liz picked up the copy of _Deep Six_. "He's a famous author. Why would he want to know who I am? I'm just a sophomore history major."

"You're more than that, Liz. You're his sister. He lost his parents that day as well, and it looks like neither one of you have any other family but each other."

"Maybe he's married," Liz said.

"Then, you'll be up to your eyeballs in new family. Come on, I'll give you a ride to the airport."

"This is a bad idea."

"No. It's not. This is the first impetuous thing you've done in your whole life, and it's for a very good cause. Now, stop swivelling that stupid chair and let's go."

Liz nodded and allowed herself to be directed out of Cassie's house and into her car.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Good luck!" Cassie shouted as Liz went through the security checks. "Call me and tell me how it goes!"

"I will!" she shouted back. Half an hour later, she was sitting on a plane, heading to Washington, DC. Why she had actually given in to her desire to find her family was a mystery. She thought over all the things she'd found out about the Gemcity family. It was bad enough that both her parents had died in a fire, a fire she apparently had gone through unscathed, but in addition, she had a brother who had disappeared not long after. He just fell off the face of the earth until last year when his name had suddenly surfaced again as an author. What had he been doing for the last fifteen years? Did he wonder about her? Had something happened to him? What if he was angry? What if she couldn't find him at all? What if the publisher refused to help her, writing her off as some crackpot fan?

Liz looked at the author photo on the dust jacket yet again. He looked a lot like the photograph of their father, but his face was rounder and he looked like he might be as tall as she was. He looked like a nice person, but pictures could be deceiving. Firmly, she told herself to stop thinking so negatively. _Cassie's right. He'll be happy to find out that he has a sister still. Think positively, Liz!_

Instead of dwelling on all the things that could go wrong, she leaned back in the seat, holding the book tightly in her hands and forced herself to think about what he might be doing right now. Maybe he was leaning over a keyboard, typing the sequel to _Deep Six_. He'd probably made a lot of money. Maybe he lived in a fancy house and had a limo! Maybe he was at a book signing or some sort of red carpet thing, surrounded by fans. She'd never really paid attention to the book beyond the title. One of her friends had told her about the plot and it had not interested her. She liked reading other types of books better, history books or fantasy novels, not these pseudo-mysteries that had become so popular. The really good mysteries had been written by the older authors, like Agatha Christie or Wilkie Collins, if she went back even further. Still, he knew how to write; so he wasn't dumb. Maybe he was married and had kids and was playing with them in the backyard of his mansion. Liz closed her eyes and envisioned the scene, smiling at the thought of her older brother playing with children of his own. Her imagined scene expanded to include her, taking pictures or running around a set of swings on a playground. She hoped Thom would accept her.


	33. NO!

**Chapter 32: NO!**

The shots had happened so quickly, so suddenly, that Tim was surprised when the next few seconds passed by as slowly as they did. It seemed like it took hours to watch Sarah slowly fall, her hands to her chest. Tim stood frozen in place as he saw yet another family disintegrating into dust. He had now lost three. In his mind's eye, he saw the charred remains of Thom's parents, the last sight he'd had of Lizzie before he'd run away. He saw himself identifying his own parents' remains after the car crash. It hadn't really happened, but that didn't matter. The memory was still there, the emotions still as painful as any real loss. Now, Sarah, who wasn't really his sister in anything but adversity, was falling to the ground. Tim felt all the anger, no, the intolerable loathing, toward Blaser build up inside him, screaming for release. Blaser was a representative of every person who had trodden on him, every person who had cast him aside. The other homeless men who had beaten him. The social worker who had taken his sister from him. Tanner who had destroyed a life and built a new one from the ashes. He wasn't going to be destroyed again. He wasn't a phoenix able to continually rise from the ashes of destruction.

"NO!" he screamed and sprang at Blaser like a man possessed. It shouldn't have worked. Blaser had a gun; Tim was unarmed and still weak. Perhaps he just hadn't thought that Tim would actually do anything worthwhile. Perhaps he was too busy watching Sarah. Maybe he was distracted by the sudden appearance of Tony and Ziva from different parts of the street or the people who had opened their doors when the gunshots had shattered the still morning air. No matter what the reason, Tim was able to knock the gun out of Blaser's hand, but that wasn't enough. It wasn't enough simply to disarm him. It wasn't enough to arrest him. He had to _die_. Tim put his hands around Blaser's throat and began to strangle him. Blaser, of course, was fighting back, but it seemed as though Tim didn't even feel the blows. He was intent only on slowly squeezing the life out of the man who had killed his sister.

"McGee! Tim!" Tim barely heard the voice through the red haze fogging his brain. Hands that would normally be stronger than his own tried to pull him away from Blaser, but he would not let go. He couldn't let him get away. He couldn't allow another piece of his life to fall away. A fire had taken his parents. The system had taken his sister. The self-proclaimed "King of the Alleys" had taken his innocence. Tanner had taken his life. He couldn't lose anything else. For once, someone else would do the losing.

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The gunshots took Tony and Ziva by surprise and they each cursed their stupidity in not realizing the danger beforehand. And yet, it hadn't looked like anything dangerous. Neither Tim nor Sarah had said anything into their mikes. The man had waved to the woman as she kept moving down the block and had stopped to talk to them. Then, moments later, he suddenly had a gun and had fired it three times. Tony had paused only to pull out his phone and tell Gibbs to get backup... and an ambulance. He reached the scene a few seconds after Ziva. Sarah was on the ground, not moving, and Tim was... he was strangling the man who had the gun, only the man was now unarmed, the gun forgotten on the grass beside them.

Tony and Ziva shared a glance and nodded without speaking. Tony moved over to Sarah while Ziva went to Tim.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"McGee! Tim!" Ziva grabbed Tim and tried to pull him away from Blaser, whose attacks were getting more and more feeble. She was surprised that she couldn't seem to move him. Ziva knew she was stronger than Tim, but in his rage, she couldn't stop him from committing murder... unless she could get him to stop voluntarily. She had never seen Tim's face so contorted with hate before. He had always been so calm, so kind...so unmarred by such extreme emotions. He had been angry before, but this went far beyond mere anger.

"Tim, you must stop!" Ziva abandoned his hands and turned his face toward her. Blaser had stopped struggling entirely. He wasn't quite unconscious, but that, and more, would follow unless she could get through to Tim. "He can't die this way," she said. Tim's eyes were empty, as empty as when he had been under Blaser's control. "Let him go, Tim," she said firmly. "He will pay, but not here, not like this."

Tim released Blaser's neck so suddenly that Ziva fell back. Before she could stop him, he'd picked up Blaser's gun and was pointing it at the man.

"No! McGee, you cannot kill him. We need him alive, to lead us to Blaser!"

For the first time, Tim spoke, his voice so choked with rage that she didn't even recognize it. "_This_ is Blaser! I _won't_ let him take anything else from me!"

Tony looked up briefly from his position over Sarah and met Ziva's gaze, but didn't say a word.

Ziva knew she could simply twist the gun out of Tim's hand, but she also knew that there was a chance of it going off. As much as she'd like to give Blaser the punishment he deserved, she knew that once Tim came out of this rage he'd feel incredibly guilty for killing an unarmed man.

"He won't, McGee," Ziva said, calmly. "This is the wrong way to punish him."

"No! He has to pay!"

"No, McGee! Not here, not you. This is wrong; you know it!"

"No! This is the only way!"

Blaser's eyes opened wide as he regained awareness. He didn't move or speak.

"It is _not_ the only way, McGee."

"Yes! He'll get away with it! No one ever gets punished!" The tears started and Tim's voice got louder and louder. "They take and take and take and _I'm_ the one who suffers for it!" His finger tightened on the trigger.

"You will suffer more if you kill him now, McGee. You know this. Put down the gun!"

Tim didn't answer, but the hand holding the gun began to shake. There was silence for what seemed an eternity. Then, the gun shifted to the left and Tim began firing, relentlessly pulling the trigger over and over again and screaming wordlessly.

Bullets buried themselves harmlessly in the earth right next to Blaser's ear. Tim kept firing until the gun was empty. Then, he screamed again, threw the gun from him as hard as he could, took a few steps away from Blaser and fell to his knees. Immediately, Ziva pulled out her cuffs and roughly turned Blaser over onto his stomach.

As she put the cuffs on him, she got close to his ear and said, "You are under arrest for kidnaping, conspiracy to commit murder, murder, and anything else that might come up later on in our investigation. You have the right to remain silent and I strongly suggest that you exercise that right because I will kill you very slowly if you do not. You have the right to an attorney, but I am certain you have many lined up to do your bidding and you will need every one of them. Now, do not try anything unless you want to die."

With one crisis averted, Ziva turned to Tony.

"She's still alive, but only just," Tony said as he continued put pressure on the gunshot wounds.

Ziva saw the discarded vest on the grass. "Did it help at all?"

"Enough," Tony said shortly. "I hope." In reality, he had been surprised to find Sarah still living. The bulletproof vest she'd been given was good, but it wasn't designed to stop bullets fired at point-blank range. One had been stopped by the jacket, barely, but the other two had penetrated and were still inside her. Tony was trying to stop the bleeding, but he knew that if the ambulance didn't get there quickly, Sarah would die. "How's McGee?"

Ziva looked over. Tim had not joined them; he was lying prone on the ground. She didn't answer Tony's question; instead, she ran over to the motionless form and knelt beside him.

"McGee!" She turned him over. He was unconscious and shaking

"Is he hit?" Tony asked.

"No, but there is something wrong with him!" Ziva said.

"What's the meaning of this?" a man blustered as he came down the sidewalk.

"Federal agents, sir! Stay back, please!" Ziva shouted. She wasn't any more menacing than usual, but he could see this was a woman to obey and stopped in his tracks.

Finally, the ambulance pulled up, followed shortly by Gibbs and a second ambulance. Ziva and Tony updated the EMTs on the condition of the two, and then watched anxiously as their friends were taken away.

"What happened?" Gibbs asked as Ziva remembered Blaser lying on the ground and hauled him upright. Livid marks from Tim's hands had begun to rise up on his neck.

"We screwed up, Boss," Tony said, absently trying to remove the blood from his hands. "Blaser–"

Gibbs interrupted. "That's Blaser?" he asked pointing to the man Ziva was now nearly dragging to the car.

"Yeah, that's what Tim said, or rather snarled. I've _never_ seen him like that, Gibbs. He was... he really looked crazy, and I don't mean that in a funny, joking way. He looked like he was out of his mind."

"Well?"

Tony resumed his narrative. "So, Blaser had been walking down the sidewalk with this lady pushing a stroller. They were talking as if they knew each other and Ziva was watching them carefully. Blaser stopped when he got to Sarah and Tim and started to talk to them. It was only about a minute and then all of sudden he was shooting. Sarah fell while we were running over to them. Tim stood there for a few seconds without moving, but by the time we got there, he was strangling Blaser."

"_McGee_ was doing that?!" Gibbs said in shock.

"Yeah, I told you: he was crazy. I went to check out Sarah while Ziva tried to keep McGee from killing our suspect. It was a good thing she had the vest on; it stopped one of the bullets, but he was just too close to her. The other two got through. We weren't planning on a personal confrontation."

"But she was alive?"

"She was, but it was pretty bad, Boss," Tony clarified, still rubbing at his hands.

"What about McGee?"

"I don't know what happened. He stopped trying to choke Blaser to death and grabbed his gun, but whatever Ziva said to him apparently changed his mind about shooting him. Instead, he shot just to the side. You can see where the grass is all torn up." He pointed. "Then, he fell over there. Ziva said he wasn't hit, but _something_ must have happened."

"Did he say anything?" Gibbs asked.

"It was hard to understand him from where I was."

"He said that he wasn't going to let Blaser take anything else from him," Ziva said, rejoining them. "And then, he said that Blaser had to pay and that _they_ never have to suffer."

"Right, I heard that part," Tony agreed. "He said they take and take and take and he's the one who suffers. I don't know who _they_ are unless he meant Tanner and Blaser."

Gibbs knew someone else that Tim had probably been talking about, but he didn't feel it was necessary to reveal that particular event to his team. It would only make things worse, with Tony and Ziva on the warpath.

"Okay, we need to process the scene. You two get to work on that and I'll take Blaser in."

"But, Boss, what about Sarah and McGee?" Tony protested as he continued to scrub at the blood on his hands.

"Tony, for heaven's sake, get a towel or something," Gibbs said. "And there's nothing you can do for them right now anyway. We need to get all this into evidence before it disappears."

"What?" Tony looked down and noticed what he was doing, finally. "Right, on it, Boss."

Gibbs left his agents to follow his orders and headed back to his car. Blaser was sitting patiently. He didn't look at all worried, and that worried Gibbs. He pulled out his phone and ordered a guard at the hospital for both Sarah and Tim. Then, he got in the car without a word to his passenger and returned to headquarters.


	34. Coincidences

**Chapter 33: Coincidences**

"We are now taxiing to the gate. Local time is 3:25 p.m. and the temperature is... 62 degrees. You are now permitted to use cellular phones and other portable electronic devices. For the safety of yourself and your fellow passengers, please remain in your seats with your seatbelts securely fastened until we arrive at the gate and the captain has turned off the "Fasten Seatbelt" sign. Once again, on behalf of myself and the crew on the flight deck, we thank you for flying with us and hope you choose JetBlue for your future travel needs. Welcome to Dulles International Airport."

Liz looked up during the announcement and was hit with a shot of pure nerves. She had called her parents on one of her layovers (she'd had three) and they had been predictably angry, but strangely resigned. Now, she pulled out her phone again and called Cassie.

"Cassie, I just landed at Dulles."

"Wonderful! Congratulations! What are you doing?"

"Waiting for the plane to get to the gate. I'm really nervous, Cass."

"Lizzie, my long-legged compatriot, take a deep breath and smell that sweet Washington, D. C. air."

"I'm still in the plane and then I'll be in the airport," Liz said flatly. "Besides, Dulles is technically in Virginia and even if it weren't, D.C. is a metropolis. The air isn't all that sweet."

"Don't be such a killjoy," Cassie chided. "You know you want all this to work out."

"I do. That's the problem. I want it too much."

"Stop thinking about how it could go wrong. Think about it going right. And besides, there's something else you haven't considered."

"What's that?" Liz asked, a smile already on her face.

"You're in the nation's capital, silly! You can see all the sights!"

"_Bye_, Cassie," Liz said, trying hard not to laugh.

"Bye! Tell me how it goes!"

Liz watched as all the passengers on the crowded flight stood up and began to jostle each other in their desire to get off the plane. Then, the flight attendant's voice came over the intercom again.

"Because we did get in a bit late, we would ask that anyone whose final destination is the Dulles airport please remain in their seats so that those who have connecting flights can reach them on time. Thank you."

Liz noticed that very few people sat down again, but there were a few who listened to the attendant and did as she asked. In obedience to the request, Liz stayed seated until the plane was nearly empty. There were a couple of families with young children, another single woman, probably a few years older than herself, and a couple of men. They all stood, almost as one, and gathered their belongings. Once she got out of the breezeway, Liz began to look around for a sign telling her where the baggage claim was. She hadn't packed very much, but the stringent carry-on policy had forced her to check her bag containing all her toiletries. Unfortunately, she wasn't watching where she was going and ran headlong into the woman from the plane. Liz was so much taller than she that the woman didn't have a chance. They both went down, and Liz's copy of _Deep Six_ which she'd been clutching convulsively through every leg of the flight, flew from her hands as she tried to keep herself from crushing the woman she'd just toppled.

"Oh, sorry. I'm so sorry," Liz apologized. She knelt beside the woman and tried to help her gather her stuff. "I was looking for the sign for the baggage claim and I just wasn't looking, and I'm so flustered right now, and... I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Nothing hurt but my pride, and that's never very high on my list of priorities... it can't be where I work." She began to look around to see if she'd missed anything. "Is that yours?" She asked, pointing to the book.

"Oh, yes. That's mine. It's why I'm here, really," she blurted out and then wondered why in the world she had confessed that to a total stranger. "I'm Liz, and I'm really sorry," she said again as the two of them stood up.

"Don't worry about it. My name is Michelle. You say this is why you're here?" she asked as she picked up the book and held it out.

Liz blushed and said, "It's a long story."

"Well, if you don't mind sheltering in the comfort of strangers, I'll show you to the bag claim and you can explain." Michelle smiled kindly. She really did seem very nice.

"Thanks. I don't do much flying."

"Neither do I. I was at a conference." She grimaced good-naturedly. "So?"

"Well, I think the author is my brother, to be honest." At Michelle's surprised look, she hurried on, "I was adopted when I was four; my parents died. I've been trying to find him for... well, I've wanted to meet him for a while."

"Really?" Michelle was more surprised than Liz would normally have guessed. Perhaps her story sounded crazier than she'd thought.

"I know it's unlikely, but it's true. I was going to go to his publisher and try to track down his address."

Michelle looked across the room as they came outside of the secure area. She smiled at someone and cocked her head. "Baggage claim is this way," she said and then shouted across the terminal, "Jimmy!"

A young man with dark hair looked around blankly, but then smiled as he saw Michelle and ran over to them.

"Hey! I've been waiting for awhile. I was starting to worry," he said. He was obviously happy to see Michelle, but Liz thought he seemed preoccupied.

"I know. Our flight was delayed," Michelle said.

"Who is this?" he asked, looking up at Liz who blushed at his gaze.

"This is Liz. Liz, this is my..._friend_, Jimmy."

Liz swallowed and shook his hand and then tried to make a joke.

"Is he a friend with benefits?"

Jimmy blushed bright red, but Michelle laughed. "You're a lot faster than others have been."

"You guys work together?"

"Yeah. That's how we met," Michelle said and then pointed to the conveyor belt as it started to spit out pieces of luggage. "Oh, that's us. We'd better watch for our bags."

Liz started to watch the belt and Michelle dragged Jimmy over to the side.

"You'll never guess who she is."

"Michelle, something's happened..."

"She says that she's McGee's sister!" she continued, not paying attention.

"Michelle, I said... what?"

"She told me that she's McGee's sister, that she was adopted when she was four after their parents died. Could that be true? I mean, McGee already has a sister the same age as Liz must be."

"It _is_ possible, Michelle."

"What? How?"

"I told you that something's happened and it has to do with McGee."

"What?" she asked in confusion. When Jimmy didn't answer, she got scared and repeated, "What, Jimmy? What happened?"

"I can't tell you here," he hissed at her. "There are too many people and it would take too long." He plastered a smile on his face and pulled her close.

"What about Liz?" Michelle asked. "If you're right, then we should probably take her with us."

"I don't know. Gibbs mi–"

Michelle interrupted. "Gibbs might kill us both if she really is McGee's sister and we just sent her on her way!"

"You're right. You're right." He let Michelle go and smiled at Liz who was standing uncertainly behind them.

"Oh, there's my bag, Jimmy! It's just going around the corner there," Michelle said quickly. Jimmy nodded and ran to grab it for her. "Hey, Liz, you're not going to believe this, but I know the author of _Deep Six_."

Liz raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Why didn't you say so before?"

"Well, I work with him, too... at NCIS."

"What's that?"

"We're part of the Navy, criminal investigators."

"It doesn't say anything about that on the cover."

"That's because he doesn't want any, um, crazy fans to track him down. He's already had a bit of trouble with that."

"So, why are you believing me now?"

"You look like him... not a lot, but there is a resemblance, especially the height." She smiled. "Do you want to come with? We're going to headquarters now, and you could see him..." she broke off as Jimmy shook his head frantically behind her. "...or at least see where he works. I don't know if he's there right now."

Liz looked uncertain. It seemed too good to be true that she had just _happened_ to run into someone who could take her directly to her brother, but then, she didn't have many good ideas about how to find him anyway.

"Look, here's my NCIS badge, and Jimmy can show you his ID as well. We're not kidnapers or anything."

"Don't you have a badge?" Liz asked Jimmy as she examined Michelle's.

"No. I work in the morgue. I'm the ME assistant."

"Really."

"Yep, here's my ID." Jimmy pulled it out of his pocket, and she noticed for the first time that he was wearing scrubs under his jacket.

"So, you want to come?" Michelle asked.

"Okay." Liz nodded. Goodness knows her parents would kill her if they knew she had gone off with complete strangers, but she found herself trusting them implicitly and followed the two NCIS employees out of the terminal.

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"Where's Gibbs?" Michelle asked as soon as she stepped off the elevators. There was an almost oppressive mood in the bullpen. Ziva and Tony were both sitting at their computers working, but they had an intensity about their work that was normally absent. There were no jokes, no banter, just work.

"He's up with Director Shephard," Tony answered, looking curiously at Liz who had become mute with anxiety. Now, with two more strangers staring at her, she felt herself blushing, as she often did when she was the center of attention. "Who's this, Lee?"

"This is Liz. I met her at the airport." She looked over at Ziva who was scrutinizing Liz as if she'd seen her before. "She says that she's McGee's sister." Lee handed over the file of data Liz and Cassie had gathered. Tony started to flip through it and looked over at Ziva, his eyes wide.

Liz blinked. "Whoa, my brother's name is Thom Gemcity, not McGee." She held up the copy of _Deep Six_ and was surprised when both of them grimaced.

Ziva stood quickly, exchanging a nod with Tony, and walked over to her. "It is a very long story, but if he is your... brother, he uses two names, one for his book and one for work."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense."

"We call him McGee. Tim McGee," she said, and looked over at Tony, "Only Tony calls him Probie most of the time."

"Too much information, Ziva," Tony snapped. He stood and handed the file to Ziva. Then, he gestured toward another desk. "That's McGee's desk. Why don't you have a seat and we'll... figure out what to do."

"One of you should get Gibbs," Michelle said, and Liz noticed that she had become a lot less assertive in this office than she had been in the airport.

"You go get him, Lee. It's your information."

"But I don't know the whole story, and he hates me!"

"Lee, go!" Tony gestured and Michelle turned to follow his orders.

Liz sat down at Tim's desk and looked at the stuff on it. It was a welcome distraction from the furtive glances she was receiving from the other two in the bullpen. She couldn't help but notice the wood in one of the windows on the far wall and a small, but nasty-looking, stain on the floor near the desk opposite her. The silence was nerve-wracking and she was confused. Tony and Ziva had been worried about something when she and Michelle had come in, and now, she got the feeling that they weren't talking because she was there. She nearly jumped a mile when her phone rang.

"Yes, this is Liz, hello!" she gasped out, trying to ignore the outright stares from Tony and Ziva.

"Gosh, Liz, what's going on?"

"Cassie!" Liz said in relief; then she lowered her voice. "You'll never guess where I am."

"Where?"

"NCIS Headquarters."

"NCIS? What's that?"

"They're some kind police detectives. Thom apparently works here."

"How did you find _that_ out?"

"I ran over a woman in the airport and she works here."

"Wow. Talk about coincidence."

"Yeah. The thing is, I think there's something going on, because everyone seems really worked up and they keep staring at me like I'm a rare zoo specimen."

"Oh, you're not. Just unexpected, Miss Luke."

The voice startled Liz and she looked up and saw another stranger looming over her.

"Um, Cassie, I've got to go. I'll call you back later." Liz disconnected although she could hear her friend's protests as she pull the phone away from her ear. Then, she stood up and was surprised that she could meet this man's eyes levelly. He seemed a whole lot bigger when she had first looked at him.

"I'm Special Agent Gibbs. Your... brother works for me."

"Yes, sir," Liz found herself hunching over slightly as she always did when people intimidated her. This man, this Gibbs, oozed authority from every pore.

Unexpectedly, he smiled which transformed his face from threatening to kind in an instant. "Well, _that_ is certainly like McGee."

"What is, sir?"

"I'll never figure out how you can make yourselves seem so small. You must be nearly six feet and I know for a fact that McGee is taller than I am. Yet you both manage to shrink yourselves so that you look shorter than Agent Lee."

"It's, uh, a talent, I guess. It takes years of practice... sir." She didn't add that he could have made Andre the Giant seem small if he'd glared at him.

"Stop calling me 'sir,' Miss Luke," Gibbs said, still smiling.

"Okay... Agent Gibbs. Most people call me 'Liz.'"

"Okay, Liz, stop hunching. It's bad for your posture, and come with me. There's something you need to know about your... brother."

"Why does everyone keep hesitating on that word? I checked it out," Liz said defensively. "He looks like the photo I found of my father and the name is the same and..."

"That's one of the things we need to talk about. Please, come with me." The smile had faded and been replaced by a look of intense worry.

"Okay, si– Agent Gibbs." Liz followed him up the stairs to the office that Michelle had been so frightened of approaching. As they reached the top and neared an office, Michelle came out, tears on her face, and a red-haired woman was gripping her arm in sympathy.

Michelle saw Liz and tried to smile. "Don't worry," she said through her tears. "They're really very nice people."

Liz must have looked alarmed because she patted her back as she passed and said, "It's not what you think. In fact, it's probably nowhere near what you think." She glanced over at Gibbs and continued on her way... probably to see Jimmy.

The red-haired woman stuck out her hand. "Hello, you must be Liz. I'm Director Jen Shephard. Please, come into my office," she said as Liz shook her hand. Then, she looked over at another woman, probably her assistant, and said, "No interruptions, Cynthia."

"No exceptions, Director?"

"Only if Washington is in danger of being leveled by terrorists."

Cynthia smiled weakly, and nodded. "Understood."

Liz went into the office, flanked by Gibbs and the Director. Suddenly, this seemed a whole lot more serious than a case of finding a family member.

"Have seat, Liz. What we have to tell you is going to take awhile, and it will be hard for you both to understand and to believe, but if you are right about your relationship to McGee, you need to know what is going on.

"But–"

Jenny shook her head. "Please, don't interrupt. You will have time to ask questions at the end, and I guarantee you will have questions."

Liz swallowed and looked back and forth between Jenny and Gibbs. Then, she nodded.

"Okay. I'm ready."


	35. You're Kidding, Right?

**Chapter 34: You're Kidding, Right?**

It took a long time to explain all that had been happening at NCIS over the last couple of days (even glossing over many of the details), but when Gibbs and Jenny finally finished, despite Jenny's assertion that she would have questions, Liz sat back in complete shock and was unable to say a word. Not a single thought of all that could go wrong in her quest to find what little remained of her birth family had included such an impossible tale as had been told her. And yet, these two people were not only very important people in NCIS, they both knew Timothy McGee. It must be true. But _how_ could it be?

"Wow, no questions? We must have been better at this than I expected, Jethro," Jenny observed facetiously.

"I-I..." Liz laughed helplessly. "This isn't what I, what I _thought_ would happen. I mean, it's so..."

"Unbelievable?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah. I was just wanting to meet my brother. I didn't... I didn't think that I'd find out that he'd been... whatever-ed into a different person. I mean, it's not like I know him at all anyway..." Liz wasn't looking at either of them and was continually shaking her head. "If I had known..." she trailed off.

"You wouldn't have bothered?" Gibbs asked.

She looked up at him. The accusation in his icy blue eyes forced her to respond. "I'm kind of a coward, Agent Gibbs. I-I never do anything out of the ordinary. I'm a nerd and I'm boring and I've never had a problem with that. I-It works for me. I always figured that when I finally found out who my family was, I'd meet them; we'd be happy; maybe we'd even get along and have some sort of relationship. But this..."

"Let me get this straight, Liz." Jenny leaned forward. "You were willing, apparently for the first time in your life, to throw caution to the winds in the hopes of meeting your brother, and because he's not what you expected, you're wishing that you hadn't?"

The only reason Liz didn't curl up into a ball like a hedgehog was because these two people didn't look like they'd understand that kind of thing. Instead, she held herself straight as an arrow and looked everywhere but at them.

"Yes...?"

"Is that a question?" Jenny asked, sternly.

Liz suddenly felt like she was back in elementary school. That's who Director Shephard reminded her of: Principal Johnson! "No, ma'am," she said very softly.

Because at that moment, she was staring at her fingernails, she didn't see the look that passed between Jenny and Gibbs. It was not one of anger, but of sadness. They understood her all too well, but it was hard to realize that this young woman was not willing to take the risk.

"Don't worry, Liz. We will not force you to do anything that you do not wish to," Jenny said. Her voice was anything but comforting. "In fact, at this point, it would probably be more damaging than anything for you to see McGee. The last thing he needs right now is rejection. Agent Gibbs will escort you out of the building, and you may do what seems best to you."

"I can find my own way out, ma'am," Liz said. She felt awful and didn't want to spend any more time with these people than was necessary.

"I'm sure you can, but policy dictates my decision. We can't have a visitor running around unescorted in a federal building." Jenny stood. "Besides, I assume you're going to be heading to the hospital, Jethro?"

Gibbs nodded. "I'm sure Ziva and Tony are already there... as well as Abby if she got through her work fast enough."

Jenny smiled, apparently ignoring the continued presence of Liz on her chair. "Then, you're on your way out anyway. Agent Lee will most likely look in as well. She was quite shaken when I explained things to her. Let me know if there is any change in McGee's condition and Sarah's as well."

"Of course, Jen." Gibbs looked down at Liz who was still sitting with her head bowed. She reminded him quite forcefully of Tim, particularly of his first year at NCIS, tentative and easily cowed. "Let's go, Liz."

She stood and forced herself to meet Jenny's gaze. She was surprised to see no condemnation there, only regret.

She tried to think of something to say, anything to break the heavy silence. "Thank you for seeing me and... and explaining the situation, ma'am."

"My pleasure, Liz. Remember that this is still part of an ongoing investigation. You are not at liberty to discuss the details of the case with anyone. You may tell your parents if you wish, but do not give them the details, please."

"What about friends?"

"No. Absolutely not. We would not have told you if it had not been for your family connection. As it is, we did not tell even _you_ everything. However," she turned to her desk and picked up a small card, "this is the address and phone number of the hospital where Agent McGee is being treated. Should you wish to see him, you may call the number. I will leave your name with the staff."

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked hesitantly.

"No one knows yet." She gave a sad smile. "The doctors don't even know what is wrong with him right now. We're all just waiting."

"Thanks." Liz followed Gibbs out of the office and to the stairs. As he had said, the bullpen was now missing the two agents who had stared at her so avidly. They descended to his desk in silence. He sat down at his computer for a moment and glared at whatever he saw.

"Um, sir? Agent Gibbs?"

"What?" he asked, not looking up.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Well?" He still didn't look up. Liz was relieved.

"Why do you believe that's what really happened?"

Now, he looked up, his eyes unreadable. "Because I know McGee. I know what defines him, and I have seen evidence, which you have not, that corroborates everything he has said. We are not in the habit of believing every story we are told. The director told you that we haven't given you all the information. Even so, do us the favor of respecting our intelligence."

Liz blushed as he looked back at his computer. "Agent Gibbs?"

"Yes?" It surprised Liz that he did not sound annoyed at her interruption.

"What's he like? T-Tim?"

"Now or before this happened?"

"Oh, is he different now?"

"That depends on your point of view," Gibbs replied, seemingly focused on whatever the computer screen was showing him.

"How about on your point of view?"

Gibbs took his gaze off the monitor and fixed his eyes on her again. "I don't know him as well as I probably should considering how much time we spend in each other's company. I've worked with him for four years. Abby knows him better than anyone because she has rarely done anything to intimidate or make fun of him."

"Does that happen a lot here?"

"Oh, yes. Particularly at the beginning." Gibbs stood up and began striding to the elevator. Liz had no trouble keeping up with him. "As a probationary agent, he went through a lot of hazing from his teammates and I still make him a little nervous on occasion."

Gibbs smiled as he heard a muttered, "I wonder why" from behind him.

"He is very smart, disconcertingly so at times. I have used his talents quite often and he is a real asset to the team. McGee is also fiercely loyal, a hard worker, and usually a little naive. That has changed over the years, and has changed quite a bit in the last few days. He cares, probably a bit too much, about people."

"You can't care too much, Agent Gibbs," Liz said, forgetting to be nervous. "You either care or you don't. There's no in between."

"That's true, Liz." Gibbs turned as they got off the elevator. "So... do you care or not?"

Liz's eyes went wide.

Gibbs smiled. "It's a simple question. You said you either care or you don't. Which is it for you? Do you actually care about your brother or was it merely curiosity that put you on a plane?"

Liz found that she couldn't answer. Gibbs didn't seem to expect an answer either. He simply led her to the desk where she turned in her visitor's pass and then out of the building.

"There's a taxi waiting for you outside the Yard. Director Shephard called one for you. He can take you to the airport or to a hotel, whatever you need."

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs," Liz said and headed in the direction he pointed, but her mind wasn't on Gibbs. It was on their conversation. Gibbs watched her leave and was satisfied that he'd made her think.

"Where to, miss?" the driver asked as she got in.

"Um..."


	36. Two at the Brink

**Chapter 35: Two at the Brink**

"Where can I find Sarah McGee? I was told she was out of surgery."

"Are you family, sir?" the nurse asked.

"I'm the closest to family she has right now. Her only family is in a hospital bed himself. She has no one else."

"I'm not sure that..." the nurse trailed off. Stronger people than this one nurse had cowered under the Gibbs stare. "Your name?"

"Special Agent Jethro Gibbs."

"Oh, yes. I _have _heard about you."

Gibbs smiled.

"Sarah McGee is in the ICU. It's too soon to tell," she said solemnly. She pointed the direction and Gibbs went on his way, stopping in the waiting room to pick up Tony and Ziva.

"Have you seen McGee yet?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tony replied dully.

"And?"

"The doctors say there is nothing wrong with him," Ziva said in frustration. "I pointed out that he was not waking up, and they just shrugged! I wanted to hit them."

"I don't think that would have helped, Ziva," Tony mumbled.

"It would have made _me_ feel better. I don't like seeing McGee laying so still."

"Hey, where's Liz?" Tony asked. "I thought she'd come with you."

"She decided not to."

Tony didn't seem surprised. "She seemed a bit... I don't know, feeble? I couldn't believe that she'd come at all."

"She came all this way to meet her brother for the first time in fifteen years and decided _not_ to?" Ziva asked.

"She expected to meet while he was hale and hearty, I suppose," Gibbs said.

"Ziva, no one could have been ready for McGee," Tony said, unexpectedly coming to Liz's defense. "Were you?"

"No, but I am not his sister."

"You've known him longer than Liz has."

They both stopped bickering when they reached the ICU. Sarah was lying on a bed, covered in tubes, wires, monitors. There was so much equipment hooked up to her that, but for her dark hair, they might have missed her completely. Her face was as white as the sheets on the bed. There was a doctor checking the heart monitor when they approached.

"What's her status?" Gibbs asked quietly to avoid disturbing any of the other patients.

The doctor did not looked especially hopeful. "She's alive which is better than I would have hoped. The two bullets we pulled out did a number on her. She had massive internal bleeding and one of the bullets punctured her lung. So far it's holding, but we're watching her closely. She could still go either way. I'll have to ask you not to stay long."

Gibbs nodded and allowed Ziva and Tony to take up positions on either side of the bed. They hadn't said anything, but it was obvious that they had both become rather attached to her since they had found out who she really was. He knew they couldn't really do anything but didn't begrudge them the chance to be there. He left the ICU and went to Tim's room. He was surprised that no one was there. Abby must not have been able to finish her work yet.

Gibbs sat down next to Tim's bed. Ziva was right. Tim was too still. If it weren't for the heart monitor beeping at slow but regular intervals, Gibbs would have thought Tim was dead. He just lay there on the bed, nearly as white as Sarah. There was a netting of electrodes on his head, which Gibbs guessed was an EEG. The monitor showed very little activity even to his inexpert eye.

"Who are you?"

Gibbs turned around quickly, in surprise, and saw a nurse standing in the doorway. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS."

"I was told you would be coming. I even told Agent McGee, although it doesn't seem to have made any difference," the nurse said.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?"

She shook her head. "No. He has no injuries. His body was a bit run down, but nothing extreme considering the seizures."

"How did you know about those?" he asked, suddenly suspicious.

"A Dr. Mallard called us and gave us an update on his medical condition, although it took him awhile to get to the point. He seems to have a tendency to maunder, but he was very polite and charming."

"That sounds like Ducky," Gibbs said, relaxing a little. "What _do_ you know then?"

"Only that, for whatever reason, he is effectively in a coma. His EEG is in the delta range. That means that he's either in deep sleep or in a coma," she added off Gibbs' blank look. "Since we don't know what caused it, we can't cure it. All we can do is make sure he stays stable until he decides he's ready to wake up."

"So there's nothing you can do?"

"Nothing _we_ can do, Agent Gibbs. The presence of friends and family often helps coma patients. They know that they are not alone. Sometimes, that's enough."

"And other times?"

She walked past him without answering and checked the monitors, recording the readings on a chart. Then, she headed back out the door. She paused before she left.

"Other times, they don't wake up. I'm sorry."

Alone again, Gibbs stared at Tim.

"What are you thinking, McGee?" he asked. "What happened out there? And what's happening in there?" He poked Tim's skull. There was no response from his agent.

"Gibbs?"

"Hey, Abby," Gibbs said, turning to see her. She was hovering in the doorway, looking more unsure than he'd ever seen. "What's wrong?"

"I stopped to see Sarah. Tony and Ziva said that she-she might..." Abby broke down in tears and ran to Gibbs, throwing her arms around him. "She _wants_ to die, Gibbs. She doesn't want to survive, but _I_ don't want her to die, and Tim doesn't want her to die... and I'm scared that Tim is going to die, and if Sarah dies, he will and..."

"Whoa, Abby, how do you know Sarah wants to die?"

Abby burrowed her head into his chest. "She as good as told me. It was before your meeting. We were talking and she said that all she wanted to do was make sure Tim got through it. Other than that, she just wanted it all to be over. That's why she didn't care about being the target, Gibbs! She wants to die, and I'm afraid that she will! And if she does, then Tim will die too!"

"Shh," Gibbs whispered, and he rocked her gently back and forth. "It's going to be okay." As he comforted Abby, he kept thinking that he really hoped he was telling the truth this time.

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Tony and Ziva were drowsing in the chairs by Sarah's bed. They had gone to visit Tim, but something about his presence was unnerving; so they had retreated to Sarah's bedside instead. A nurse had tried to get them to leave once, but a death glare from Ziva had ended that idea. Ducky had stuck his head in but hadn't stayed long. Michelle hadn't come, but then, she hadn't ever met Sarah before. So, they were alone with Sarah when she woke up.

"Hey, guys," she said, barely giving voice to the words.

"Hey," Tony said and sat up quickly. Ziva did the same.

"Did... we win?" she asked, attempting to smile.

"More or less," Ziva answered.

Before they could say anything else, Sarah closed her eyes again and was gone. They watched the heart monitor continue its beeping, relieved that she hadn't simply died. That relief died as the monitor flatlined. For a moment, neither of them could move, but then, a veritable horde of doctors and nurses descended upon the bed and Tony and Ziva were pushed out of the way. In fact, they were pushed all the way out of the ICU and left to stand in the hallway, waiting for some sign.

The only sign was the sudden rush of doctors which poured out of the ICU pushing Sarah's bed with them. They went through a set of doors and were gone.

Shaken, Ziva asked, "What do you think, Tony?"

Tony looked at the doors through which Sarah had disappeared, and suddenly, without warning, he was struck with a vision of Kate, who had never had the chance to fight for her life.

"She'll make it," he said.

"But..."

"She'll make it," he said firmly.

Ziva didn't try to refute his statement. What would be the point? Together, without a word, they walked down the hall in the opposite direction, in search of Tim's room and the other victim of that day's tragic events.

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"Why won't he wake up, Gibbs?" Abby asked.

"If I knew that, he'd be awake already, Abby," Gibbs answered, not taking his eyes off Tim who had still not moved. Abby had refused to sit in a chair by herself. Instead, she was sitting partially on Gibbs' lap, like an overgrown child. The entrance of two others made them both tear their eyes away from the figure in the bed.

"Hey," Tony managed. He sank down in the chair Abby had rejected and looked at Tim.

"What's going on? I thought you weren't going leave Sarah alone," Abby said accusingly.

Ziva looked at Tim lying still lying motionless in the bed. "She's back in surgery... I think."

"What happened?"

Tony heaved a great sigh. "Her heart stopped."

"Oh, no!" Abby whimpered.

"She's going to make it, Abby," Tony said.

No one responded and they all fell silent, watching the regular blips on the monitor. After an hour or so, Abby left to see if there was any progress on Sarah. When she returned half an hour later, Tim's room was almost full. Ducky, Jimmy and Michelle had all arrived and pulled up seats around Tim's bed. Abby almost started sobbing at the sight. It was too close to some kind of bedside vigil, and she didn't want any reminders of how close Tim might be to death.

"Anything, Abby?" Gibbs asked, breaking the silence.

She shook her head. "No one would tell me anything except to say that they're still working." She walked back to Gibbs and was about to sit down when another voice intruded on the silence.

"Agent Gibbs? Could I speak with you? Outside?" It was the nurse who had been there before.

Gibbs nodded and motioned for Abby to take his seat. She did, but he saw the fear in her expression. It was never a good sign when a doctor wanted to speak in private.

"You're going to tell me that we have to leave, aren't you?"

Her mouth twitched as if she was holding back a laugh. "Among other things, Agent Gibbs."

"What?"

She sighed. "I can see that you all care deeply for Agent McGee, but yes, you do need to go. Visiting hours are long over, and it's getting hard to walk into the room for all the extra bodies."

"What else?"

"Agent McGee is dying."

There was a brief moment where the whole world seemed to go out of focus for Gibbs. That was not what he'd expected to hear; however, he quickly pushed the shock to the side.

"How?"

"We don't know," the nurse said, frustration evident in her voice. "There is _nothing_ physically wrong with him, no injuries, no poison, no disease, nothing, but still, his heart rate is slowing and his breathing is becoming more shallow. We can't seem to stop it." She put a comforting hand on his arm. "I know that you are worried about another patient in this hospital as well, and I hate to compound your worries, but..."

"Go on," Gibbs said, carefully.

The nurse sighed again. "Unless we can figure out what is causing this, Agent McGee will be dead within a week at his current rate of deterioration."

The expression on Gibbs' face didn't change, but he took an unconscious step backward. Tim had just been getting back on his feet after everything and to hear that he was going to die... _No, he won't die. I did _not_ give him permission to do so._

"Thank you," he said aloud. "I'll tell everyone they have to go. I don't think they'd listen to you."

She smiled in understanding and walked down the hall to continue her rounds. Gibbs returned to the room and gave everyone their marching orders. There were protests, but eventually, they all left, with many backward glances at Tim, as if they were hoping he'd suddenly wake up with the noise of their departure. He didn't.

Finally, Gibbs was alone with Tim again. He looked down the hall to make sure no one was hanging back, and then walked over to the bed. For a few minutes he watched the heart monitor, trying to determine whether or not it had slowed any during the time he had been there. He hadn't thought to actually pay attention to the numbers, but he did now.

Then, he leaned over Tim and said quietly, "You will not die, McGee. I did not give you permission to die; you got that?"

No response. Gibbs sighed and straightened. When he turned around to leave, he saw Tony standing in the doorway. He debated whether or not to say anything, but Tony beat him to it.

"It worked for me, Boss," Tony said. He was smiling, but he wasn't joking. "If McGee's listening, he wouldn't dare disobey a direct order."

"Apparently, _you_ would, DiNozzo. Didn't I tell everyone to go home?"

"Sarah's out of surgery again. She's alive, but they won't let us see her."

Gibbs nodded and walked past Tony out into the hallway.

He was about twenty feet down the hall when Tony blurted out, "What do we do now, Gibbs?" The voice was so plaintive, that Gibbs would never have believed it could be Tony. He stopped, but didn't turn around.

"We take down the people who are responsible, Tony. That's our job."

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Everyone was gone... except Abby. She snuck back into the ICU and found Sarah, looking as close to dead as was possible with one's heart still beating.

Quietly, she leaned over Sarah and whispered, "Tim still needs you. You can't die."

Then, she slipped out of the ICU and went home.


	37. What to Do?

**Chapter 36: What To Do?**

"Bad news, Jethro," Jenny said as soon as Gibbs walked in the next morning. She was seated at his desk, obviously waiting for him.

"How much worse can it get?" he asked rhetorically.

"I'm getting pressure from above to release Blaser. He's lawyered up, and unless we can get some hard evidence, he'll be out on bail. And you know what that will mean."

"Isn't shooting an unarmed woman enough evidence?"

"Apparently not," Jenny said, her voice rough with anger. "There are people who don't care about the casualty rate, only the results. You should know that better than anyone."

"How long do I have?"

"I can't guarantee beyond today. There's just too much pressure from the higher-ups. We need something that doesn't depend on the testimony of people who are unable to speak." She looked at Gibbs and grabbed his arm as he glared at her. "I'm sorry. Jethro, I know that you are all worried about Sarah and McGee, and I know where you'd rather be right now, but if we don't get him soon..."

"We'll get him." Gibbs said. "That's a promise."

Jenny nodded and went up to her office. In spite of his assertion, she was afraid that Blaser would disappear from custody and from surveillance long before they had evidence.

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"Gibbs, I need you to get down here!" Abby crowed in triumph.

"What do you have, Abby?" Gibbs asked. Tony and Ziva looked up tiredly from their computers. They had searched Blaser's car, his home, his office and come up with nothing. It had been a very long day which had been preceded by very little sleep the night before.

"It's not what I got; it's what _Tim_ got! Just get down here. You have to see it to believe!"

"Alright, we're on our way down."

"Good. Hurry it up!" Abby disconnected.

Gibbs exchanged glances with Tony and Ziva and headed to the elevator.

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"Wentworth Blaser?" Gibbs said as he sat down across from the man he wanted to destroy.

"Could you hurry this up, Agent Gibbs? I have things to do."

"I'm sure you do. Things to do, people to kill..."

"That's out of order, Agent Gibbs," Blaser's lawyer put in quickly. "If you have nothing more than baseless accusations, we have nothing to say."

Gibbs smiled, but that smile only served to make both of the men nervous.

"Do you know a Dr. James Tanner?"

"I can't say that I do, Agent Gibbs." He was good. Gibbs had to give him that. There was no reaction to the name.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure I'd remember him. I don't see doctors very often."

Gibbs looked down at the top page of a sheaf of papers he was holding.

"Dr. Tanner: Leslie Adams personality becoming unstable. Recommendations? Signed, Wentworth Blaser."

Blaser made a small sound of protest, but it didn't have a chance to become an actual word because Gibbs plowed on.

"Dr. Tanner: As per recommendations, kill command is to be delivered to Leslie Adams ASAP. If there is a failure to make connection, a team will be sent out to remove plant. Signed, Wentworth Blaser."

"Forged signatures," the lawyer said.

"How about this one? Handwritten. Dr. Tanner: Unexpected failure of personality. Immediate elimination. Signed, Wentworth Blaser." Gibbs paused and looked up. "The handwriting has been verified."

"When?"

"You signed your name when you were booked. We also have samples taken from your home."

"My home?" Blaser was outraged.

"Of course. You were seen by NCIS agents killing an unarmed woman. We easily obtained warrants to search your residence, as well as your car and office. Shall we go on?"

"How..."

"Dr. Tanner: Revisions to personality program are needed. Too many plants have been destroyed. Signed, Wentworth Blaser." He put down the paper and picked up another. "Dr. Tanner: Congratulations on successful plant. Timothy McGee performance is exceeding expectations. Over the last five years, eight missions have been preserved due to reports. Signed... Do you want to guess whose name is on this one?"

"Where did you get those?" Blaser asked, his eyes flashing.

"Don't say another word, Wentworth," his lawyer said.

"Shut up, Richard. Where?"

"Dr. James Tanner. Do you have anything to say?" Gibbs waited. When Blaser didn't say anything. "That's alright. You'll have some time to think about it." He stood and leaned across the table. "You're not going _anywhere_." He left the room and went to observation.

Jenny glanced at him as he entered. "Where did you get those? We didn't have a warrant to search Tanner's place... although we could have gotten one."

"We didn't need one. Tanner left a note for McGee to get into his safe. Whether he had intended us to get all the emails and memos from Blaser is irrelevant. Abby was going through McGee's bag this morning and found them inside. It's the evidence you need to hold him."

"You know it's not going to be that easy though. He'll be offered a deal."

"If we can take down his network, then I won't lose too much sleep over it."

"How will you do that?"

"Let him stew for awhile. Then, when we find out what deal is offered, we can make it contigent upon his cooperation."

"How very political of you, Jethro. What we really need is a member of one of these teams who can testify to being ordered to commit murder."

"Hey, Sarah is a civilian. He'll have to be tried in civilian court for that. Besides, I would think that the CIA and FBI would want to be in on taking down a man who was able to steal information from their organizations."

Jenny turned away from the mirror completely. "Just how much information is in those papers?"

Gibbs smiled. "What I was reading only scratches the surface. We have names, dates, locations. We don't have team names, but we do have the conscious and unconscious traitors, probably from the beginning of the company. If any of them were placed in the FBI or CIA, we can verify it. We also have the dates of the orders for their deaths."

Jenny returned the smile. "I think some inter-agency cooperation might be just what we need right now."

"Is anyone in the FBI and CIA still speaking to you?" Gibbs asked slyly.

Jenny inclined her head in acknowledgment of her past missteps. "If they won't talk to me, I'll get Fornell to do the talking, but I think dangling Blaser as a carrot will open a lot of doors. I'll arrange for his continued incarceration and talk to some people. I'd like to have everything we know available." They walked out of the room and headed back to the bullpen.

"Abby's organizing all her information as we speak. Ziva and Tony are doing the same. You should have it all within the hour."

"You've been busy."

"I don't think I could keep them here for more than a work day, not with McGee and Sarah still in the hospital. It seemed wise to move them along."

Jenny's smile faded. "How is it looking?"

For the first time, Gibbs allowed the doubts to surface. "Bad. Sarah is in critical condition and the doctors aren't hoping for much."

"And McGee?"

"The nurse told me last night that he'll be dead within a week if they can't figure out what's wrong with him."

"Well, if wishing can make it so..."

"If wishing could change things, none of this would have happened in the first place."

"Of course. Well, I won't try to insist that you all stay beyond the end of the work day, not that I think it would do much good if I did."

"You could come yourself, Director."

"Not if I want to keep our friend under lock and key. Sometimes, the presence of authority is enough."

"That's why I never want to be in charge."

She smiled again. "At least, not officially."

"That's the only way to go." He stepped off the elevator, leaving Jenny to return to her office while he went to help his team.

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Liz sat on the bed, curled up in a ball. She called it her thinking pose. She'd been doing a _lot_ of thinking over the last day. Her first inclination had been to just go back home and forget what she'd tried to do, but when the taxi driver had asked her where she wanted to go for the third time, she realized that she couldn't just leave. She'd already reserved a hotel room by the airport and she figured she might as well use it. She'd called her parents and Cassie but hadn't told them anything about what was going on. She didn't know how to explain it, and she didn't think they'd believe her anyway.

"What do I do?" she said aloud. Five times that day alone she'd stood up to leave... heading somewhere, but she'd always sat down again, undecided. On the one hand, he was her brother, but on the other..._who_ was he really? What could she expect of someone who was unconscious in a hospital bed? What could _he_ expect of _her_? A million questions, none with answers, flitted through her mind as she continued to sit and think. Life wasn't supposed to have these strange events in it.

"What do I do?" she asked again.


	38. Reconnecting with Life

**Chapter 37: Reconnecting with Life**

"I don't know, Gibbs. I guess I thought he'd look better today," Abby said. "But I think he looks worse."

Gibbs privately agreed. His heart rate was definitely down, and his face looked more empty than it had the day before. The ventilator didn't help, he decided. The nurse who had spoken with him last night told him that Tim needed help breathing now and mechanical ventilation was a necessity.

"Agent Gibbs? Sir?"

Gibbs and Abby both turned away from the bed to see Liz standing hesitantly in the doorway, her shoulders hunched. She looked ready to bolt at the first sign of danger although Gibbs was glad to see her straighten up at his glance.

"Abby, this is Elizabeth Luke, Thom's sister."

Abby looked at her for a few seconds, and then flung her arms around Liz and pulled her into a hug.

"Hi! I'm Abby!"

Liz looked terrified. "Um, hi, I'm Liz." She pulled back and looked past Abby at Tim. "This is... Tim?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to talk to him?" Abby asked eagerly.

"Will he hear me?"

"He could. There's evidence that people in comatose states have some level of awareness."

"I guess so. I don't really know what to say."

"Introduce yourself. Talk about yourself. He'll hear you." Abby gave her a little shove.

"Abby, why don't we go see Sarah? I want to talk to the doctors anyway," Gbbs said.

"Yeah, sure." She looked back at Liz who was standing still, staring at Tim, and put her arms around Liz's shoulders. "I'm glad to finally meet you."

"Thanks," Liz managed. She heard the two leave the room, leaving her alone with this stranger. She walked over and sat down in an empty chair. "Hi, I'm Liz. I think I'm your sister... sort of."

The figure didn't respond. There was no sound except for the click of the respirator and the soft blips of the heart monitor.

"You're Tim. I have to tell you that I expected to be meeting Thom Gemcity, not Tim McGee." She forced a laugh. It sounded fake even to her. "I hate hospitals. I couldn't even go visit my mom when she had to get her appendix out. I refused to go. In fact, except for third grade when I broke my arm trying to using the monkey bars as a balance beam, I don't think I've really been in a hospital more than once or twice."

She lapsed into silence again. For awhile she watched the monitors. They were so slow.

"Are you dying, Tim? I... I must have been there when our parents died, but I don't remember it. I don't want to see anyone die. I don't want you to die. You're the last of my family. I was hoping to find people, relatives, but except for you, there doesn't seem to be anyone left."

Liz looked at Tim, looked at his face as if seeing it for the first time. It looked so haggard. He looked so...alone. She felt tears start to well up in her eyes. How could she be feeling this way after knowing him for two seconds? Timidly, she reached out and took his hand.

"Tim... I don't want to lose my... my brother. But even if you weren't my brother... even if you... aren't... now, I still wouldn't want you to die."

Liz started to cry in earnest. She dropped his hand and ran out of the room.

"Liz?" Michelle saw her running down the hall. She looked into Tim's room and saw that he was still as alive as he had been and then followed her to the bathroom. She found Liz sitting on the floor, crying.

She looked up and tried to smile. "I _really_ hate hospitals."

Michelle sat down next to her. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened. I just don't like hospitals. I never have. It's just one of those things."

"So why is it that you're sitting on the floor of a public restroom?"

She shrugged. "It's a hospital. I'm sure it's clean."

"I'm not. Come on. Stand up." As Liz stood, Michelle looked up at her. "Man, I hate being short. Now, tell me what's wrong?"

"It's just..." Liz walked to the sink and stared into the mirror. "I've always known I was adopted. Mom and Dad never hid it from me, but they never told me everything. For a long time, I was happy just knowing that they loved me and that I had a family, but I started asking more questions as I got older, and they wouldn't... or couldn't give me the answers. I was always a little afraid that there was some deep dark secret..." she laughed. "...you know, like a mystery novel, someone was killed or something like that and they saved me from... whatever. Now, I know that it was nothing like that, but... Tim's lying in there. Our parents are already dead. We're all that's left, and I looked at him and I just..." She started to cry again. "...I don't want him to die."

"Hey, don't think like that," Michelle said, pulling her into a much gentler hug than Abby's. "Think positively."

"But he looks so..."

"I know, but don't think of it that way. This is his recuperating time. Now, let's go."

"I-I don't think I can... not today." Liz looked down in shame.

"That's alright. I'll give you a ride."

Liz took a deep breath. "Okay." She followed Michelle out of the restroom.

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"Where's Tim?"

The soft voice startled Abby who was sitting beside Sarah's bed. After her last surgery, the doctors had confined the number of visitors at a time to one.

"Hey, welcome back," Abby said quietly.

"Where's Tim?" Sarah repeated. Her eyes were open, her heart rate had already moved up above 60 beats/minute just since she'd spoken for the first time.

"He's..." Abby hesitated, not sure if it would be a good idea to let her know that Tim was in dire straits himself.

"What, Abby? What?" Sarah took a deep breath and winced, exhaling quickly. "He'd... be here... unless something was wrong."

"Something _is_ wrong, Sarah, but we don't know what it is."

"Then, where?"

"He's in a coma or something."

"What?!" Sarah tried to sit up, but was only able to move about an inch before she sagged back onto the bed. "How? Did Blaser...?"

"No, but... Tony said that after Blaser shot you Tim snapped."

Sarah leaned deeper into the bed and closed her eyes.

"He thought I was dead," she said finally.

"But he knew about the vest, didn't he?"

"Of course... but he also would have... known that it probably wouldn't stop those bullets."

"But..."

"He told me... before... that he couldn't stand losing anyone else." Sarah opened her eyes and stared at Abby. "He meant it."

"You mean that he's like this because he thinks you're dead too?"

"I think so... as flattering as that is... I wish I was wrong."

"I don't think you are."

"Go tell him... tell him I'm alive."

When Abby didn't stand up right away, Sarah grabbed her hand. "Please, go now."

"Okay. Okay, Sarah. I'll go." Abby retrieved her hand from Sarah's lax grip and left the ICU.

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Tim wasn't sure what had brought him back. In fact, he wasn't really at the level of conscious thought, and he didn't even have any idea how long he'd been gone. He had been... somewhere... somewhere else. Now, he realized that he was actually aware of some external stimuli. Unintelligible sounds washed over him, but he made no effort to decipher them. There was nothing worth coming back for. He and Thom both had lost everything that really mattered. And yet, in spite of his desire to simply fade away, he couldn't. Very slowly, things were coming back. The worst part of it was that he was feeling more and more uncomfortable the closer to consciousness he approached. He didn't seem to be in control of his body; air was forced into and out of his lungs in a rhythm that was not of his choosing, but he couldn't change it.

_No! No more!_ He couldn't articulate the words. He was at the mercy of someone else, awaiting their pleasure. _No!_

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was late in the evening. Visiting hours were over, but Gibbs had decided to stop in and see Tim once more before going. Sarah was awake, although no one was under any delusion that she was out of the woods yet. She tired quickly and breathing was still difficult, but the doctors were amazed that she was coherent at all. Gibbs smiled wryly to himself. It was obvious to him, and to Abby as well, that Sarah was staying alive for Tim's sake. If only they could get Tim to do the same.

As soon as he stepped into the hallway outside Tim's room, Gibbs knew there was something wrong. The agent who had been sitting outside Tim's room since he was admitted was gone. It could be nothing; no one had shown up to see either Sarah or Tim who was unknown to the agents on guard duty. Maybe Agent Miller had just let his guard down.

Gibbs drew his gun. "If he _has_, I'll kill him," he muttered to himself as he approached Tim's room.

Inside, a man dressed as a doctor stood at Tim's IV line with a syringe.

"Freeze! Whatever you're doing there, stop!" Gibbs said. "Hands in the air!"

The man didn't turn around, but he did put his hands up. "I'm just giving..."

"I don't care what you say you're giving him. All I know is that you're not going to. Turn around."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure that your chances of living are getting smaller with every second that you fail to follow my orders."

The man finally turned around and made eye contact.

"Now, put it down on the ground and kick it over to me." As he started to bend over, Gibbs amended, "Slowly! Keep your hands where I can see them."

As he followed Gibbs' instructions, he moved his left hand slightly toward his waistband.

"Don't do it. You'll lose," Gibbs said, lightly stopping the syringe by his foot, but never taking his eyes off his target.

"How can you be sure?" There was no menace in his tone. This was business, nothing more. It was his job.

"Because I saw it coming, and I'm a much better shot than you could possibly be."

Now, he smiled and nodded.

"Why don't you just give me that gun right now."

At first, Gibbs really thought that the man would comply, but as he pulled the gun out, he noticed a change in the tension of his arms, his gaze flicked from Gibbs' eyes just for a moment. Then, he pulled the gun out raising it, not to hand over, but to shoot; however, as Gibbs had warned him, he lost. Gibbs got off a shot before he had the gun halfway up. The gun flew from the assassin's grasp and fell to the ground clasping his left shoulder.

"I told you not to try it," Gibbs said and flipped the man onto his stomach. "Where's Agent Miller?"

"Taking a nap in the broom closet," he hissed.

"That's almost too bad. You would have got the death penalty for two attempted murders on federal agents. Now, it will be a little bit harder." Gibbs pushed the call button, but it was a redundant action. There was no silencer on his gun and the entire floor staff, along with about five security guards came running into the room only a few seconds after the situation was resolved. It was only after they had taken the man away, cleaned up the floor and Gibbs had verified the new agent guarding Tim's door that he looked again at his agent. There seemed to be no change, even after all that.

"I can't believe that this didn't affect you, McGee." Gibbs looked at the bagged syringe in his hand. "You'd better wake up soon. I don't want to have to save you again." Then, he walked out of the room, trying not to wonder if Tim would be dead tomorrow, even without someone trying to kill him.


	39. Interference

**Chapter 38: Interference**

As suddenly as if he had been thrown out of a body of water, Tim found himself aware, fully and completely. He opened his eyes and gasped... or he would have if he hadn't had a ventilator tube down his throat. He was being forced to breathe, and it made him panic. His heart rate soared and his arms flailed ineffectually against this invasion of his body. He heard someone speaking, but it wasn't germaine to the fear he felt at having his body manipulated.

"Agent McGee, calm down. You're alright." The voice was not familiar, nor was it comforting. He still felt like he couldn't breathe. A face loomed over him. "I know it feels strange, but you need to relax." She looked away from him. "Where is he?"

"On his way."

"Well... you know him. Come over here. Help me."

"What do I do?"

"Just talk to him. See if you can get him to calm down enough for us to remove the breathing tube."

Another face loomed over him. It was Tony! Tim tried to speak, and gagged on the tube.

"Agent McGee, you can't speak while you're intubated."

"You need to calm down, Probie. You're okay. Just let the machine do its job and you'll be fine."

Tim grabbed at Tony's shirt. _Help!_ he shouted in his mind. Even if he couldn't form the words, Tony knew what he wanted.

"I can't help you, McGee. You need to let the doctors do their job. Okay?"

Tim tried to calm down, but every time he tried to take a breath, he found that his lungs were being inflated without his say so. He couldn't fight the terror this time and he wouldn't let anyone else come near him. _Stop it!_

Tony looked away. "Boss!"

"I thought I told you to go home, Tony."

"I relieved Agent Louis."

Then, Gibbs was standing over him. "I know how you feel, McGee. This happened to me, too. Remember? You need to let the air come."

Tim shook his head frantically. His mouth moved as he tried to speak again.

"They'll take it out, McGee, but you need to let them."

Tim shook his head again. His heart rate still frighteningly high.

"Tim, neither I nor Tony are qualified to do it. You need to trust the doctors to do their job." Understanding came then. Tim didn't trust doctors. He didn't like hospitals and he had not had good experiences with the people who worked in them. "We'll be right here the whole time. We won't let them hurt you, McGee. Okay?"

Finally, Tim nodded and his heart rate fell a little bit. He was still frightened and hadn't released his grip on Tony's shirt.

"It's okay, McGee," Tony said reassuringly.

Gibbs nodded at the doctor and nurse standing by the door with their equipment. They approached the bed and although Tim was obviously still tense, he didn't fight their ministrations. It didn't take long to get the tube out once they started, but as soon as it was removed, the nurse put an oxygen mask over his mouth. Tim gasped into the mask and still didn't let go of Tony's shirt.

"Hey! What're you doing now?" Tony asked.

"Sometimes patients have trouble breathing on their own right after extubation. They've been assisted for a long enough period that it takes them a little while to readjust to breathing again. Don't worry," the nurse replied easily. She spoke as if she'd had the question quite often. "Breathe, Agent McGee. You have control over how much goes in now. Take a deep breath." Tim did so, coughing and panting. He tried to push the mask out of the way. "Not so fast, Agent McGee."

"Please," he gasped, his voice muffled.

"No, Agent McGee. I need you to focus on breathing for now. Just breathe; don't talk. Breathe in. Breathe out." Tim feebly tried to push the mask again. "Breathe in... breathe out." He subsided. "Good. Thank you, Agent McGee." She kept the mask over his face for another minute or two. The whole time, Tim kept his eyes on Gibbs and Tony, letting them know he didn't want them to leave. Finally, the nurse removed the mask.

"Did I... did I..." Tim stammered.

"What, McGee?"

"Did I kill him?"

Tony exchanged a glance with Gibbs, both wondering which answer would make him feel better.

"No, McGee. He's still alive,"Gibbs answered.

At last, Tim let go of Tony's shirt, leaving an obvious damp and wrinkled spot. He didn't say anything. He appeared to be considering Gibbs' answer. Then, he abruptly started sobbing.

"If there are any problems, I'll be just outside," the nurse said and withdrew, leaving the three of them alone.

Tim didn't attempt to speak. He simply put his hands over his face and continued to sob.

"What's wrong, Tim?" Gibbs asked. He sat on the edge of the bed and put his hand on Tim's shoulder.

"I-I tried to-to k-ki..." he couldn't finish the word.

"Hey, he deserved it, Probie. I don't blame you for wanting to get rid of the lowlife."

Tim only cried harder, shaking his head.

"You _didn't_ kill him, Tim," Gibbs said. "You may have wanted to, but you _didn't_."

"I saw... Sarah fall and I-I... I just..." The tears poured down Tim's face as he trailed off.

"Sarah's not dead, McGee," Tony said.

Tim's hands fell to his lap and he looked up at Tony. "Really?" He grabbed Tony's arm. "You're not just saying that?"

"Of course not. I wouldn't make up something like that, McGee."

"She's alive?"

"Yes."

The tears slowed and Tim looked at his hands. He seemed to have forgotten about the presence of the other two. "I wanted to kill him." He sniffed. "I wanted him to suffer. I wanted to _watch_ him die." He took a deep shuddering breath as he slowly brought his emotions back under his conscious control.

"There's something else you need to know, McGee," Gibbs said.

"What?" He didn't look up.

"Your sister is here in D. C."

"My sister? What do you mean?"

"_Thom's_ sister."

Tim looked up. "L-Lizzie? How? Why?"

"She looked you up online. She wanted to meet you."

Tim shook his head, his eyes vacant. "No, she wanted to meet Thom. I-I... It's not that I don't _want_ to meet her, but... I'm not who she's been looking for."

"She knows that already, McGee."

"Knowing it and accepting it are two very different things, Boss."

"Maybe, but she's here. Are you going to turn her away?"

"I couldn't do that. ...what about Sarah? What do I do?" He choked on another sob rising in his throat. "Dying was so much easier," he whispered to himself.

Gibbs' smack on the back of his head took him completely by surprise.

"I don't _ever_ want to hear you talking like that again, McGee. Do you hear me? We have been putting our lives on the line for you over and over again in the last week. You are _not_ going to just throw that away. Do you got that?"

When Tim didn't respond, Gibbs smacked him again and said, "_Are we clear_?"

Tim just nodded. Gibbs stalked out of the room, leaving Tony alone with him. Tim didn't say anything.

"I'd better get back to my post, Probie."

Tim nodded again. Tony waited to see if he had something to say. Tim didn't even make eye contact; so Tony went back out in the hall.


	40. Easy Way or the Hard Way

**Chapter 39: Easy Way or the Hard Way**

Tim didn't look up until he was sure that Tony was gone. Dying _had_ been easier, but then, when was life _ever_ easy for him? Even those times that he thought had been easy had turned out to be fake and what was real was so much worse. That awakening had been so awful; it was almost as bad as seeing Sarah die. It was like someone else was controlling his body... like when he had attacked Blaser. He didn't remember much after seeing him shoot Sarah, but he could remember how he had felt and he remembered the feeling of choking him. A feeling of nausea built up in his stomach and he swallowed repeatedly. He had almost killed a man with his bare hands. It didn't matter that he hadn't succeeded. It didn't matter that, as Tony said, he was scum. He, Tim, didn't do that kind of thing. He never _wanted_ to do that kind of thing. Tim shuddered. No, that had been Thom and five years of living on the street. It was _his_ memories that had been calling the shots in those horrific moments.

Not just living on the streets, not really living. Thom'd been dying for five years, dying slowly, but... Tim shied away from the thought. It wouldn't go away: Thom had not really died until the night that he'd had another chance to live. And now there was still something left of him... the worst parts. Tim sighed. The best parts as well. He _had_ everything. Now, he had a few more awful memories to add to the absolutely awful ones he already possessed. A few tears escaped and made more tracks down his cheeks. Without noticing it, he pulled his legs up and curled his arms around them. Then, slowly, he rested his head on them. He had to accept that he was still alive, that even though it would have been easier to give into the darkness, he had to stick around.

Tim didn't see Tony watching him from the doorway. He closed his eyes and began rocking himself from side to side. It was probably one of the most pitiful scenes Tony had ever witnessed. He was about to withdraw so that Tim could have some privacy when he heard a strange sound. He wasn't sure what it was at first, but then realized that Tim was humming tearfully to himself. He didn't recognize the tune and he didn't think he'd ever heard Tim humming before. It sounded like a weird little lullaby and while Tony could store such an occurrence in his memory banks for future blackmail, he found that he wasn't even tempted to do so. What he wanted was for this crisis to be over and for everything to get back to normal. He pulled back from the doorway and sat on his chair.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Tony? What are _you_ doing here?"

"Guarding, Ziva," Tony said. "My replacement should be here any minute; then, I'll be heading home for some shut-eye."

"Good idea. Your eyes don't look as though they have shut in a long time," Ziva commented scrutinizing Tony's face. "Is it true that McGee woke up?"

"Yes."

"You don't sound to happy about it."

"Neither was he."

Ziva straightened. "Ah, I see. He was, how does the phrase go–quarrelsome and surely?"

"Close. It's surly." Tony looked down the hall and saw Agent Louis coming back to take up his post. He waved to her and stood up, stretching and yawning.

"I am getting better, yes?"

"Yeah, whatever. I'm off. Maybe you can cheer McGee up."

"I will do my best."

"Well, don't threaten to kill him. Gibbs has already done that, more or less, and I don't think it would work."

Ziva looked affronted. "I would not threaten to kill someone who already almost died."

Tony's expression was overly-skeptical.

"Well, not right away."

He rolled his eyes and went down the hall. Ziva looked at the doorway and hesitated before going inside. Tim was asleep. The only reason she didn't panic was because instead of laying on his back, he was curled up on his side with the hand connected to the IV dangling over the edge of the bed.

"McGee?"

Tim's eyes fluttered and then closed again.

"McGee!"

He sat up, catching his hand on the bed railing. "What?" he said, not really looking up, but examining his hand and wincing. "Ow!"

"Sorry."

Tim suddenly noticed who had spoken. "Ziva! What are you doing here?"

"I came to speak to you now that you are able to respond."

Tim gave a half smile. "About what?"

"About what happened."

The smile disappeared and he looked away. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

"I almost killed a man, Ziva. I'd rather just forget that it ever happened."

"You can't do that."

"I know."

"And you shouldn't try."

Tim turned back. "Why do you say that?"

"You need to remember what caused you to lose control so that you can prevent it if necessary. What was it?"

"It was a lot of things... all at once."

"What was it, McGee?"

"I can't tell you."

"Who _could_ you tell, McGee?" Ziva asked, a little offended.

"No one. I can't explain this to anyone."

"Do you think that you are the only one to have a traumatic history, McGee?"

"No! That's part of the problem!" Tim looked away again. "Do you know how incredibly... uneventful my life was before two weeks ago? I was in a car accident at age sixteen and my parents died when I was in college. Now, I know that those things didn't really happen. The real events...they're different," he said.

"Like what?"

Tim hitched one shoulder. "I'm sure you've had much worse."

"McGee," Ziva finally sat down so that she didn't appear to tower over him. "I will not think less of you because your bad experiences are not as bad as mine, if that truly is the case... any more than I thought less of you when your life was boring."

Tim laughed a little. "Do you remember that case where I went undercover... as myself?"

"The dead petty officer?"

"Yeah. You cornered me in the men's room because you wanted to know about my dislike of–"

"–of maggots, yes. I remember."

"I didn't tell you, not because it was personal, but because I didn't really know."

"But you know now?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"It's because when I was sixteen a man who called himself the King of the Alleys decided that I was invading his territory. He said that everything I had belonged to him. The only problem was that I didn't have anything worth taking."

"Yes?"

"He found out that I..." Tim stopped. "I don't know whether to say that it was Thom or me that these things happened to."

"I know what you mean, though, McGee."

"Well... _I_ had this charm bracelet. It belonged to my mother. It was cheap. He couldn't even have sold it, but I had it and I obviously cherished it. ...so he took it from me, but it was the only thing of my mother's that I still had and I fought for it. He was probably in his forties and I was a scrawny teenager. Guess who won."

"Not you?"

"Not me. He broke my leg and threw me into a dumpster full of rotting garbage... and maggots among other creepy crawly things. I was stuck in there all night long. A garbage man heard me crying the next morning and got me out. I was covered in rot and bugs. That's why I don't like maggots."

"And that's one of the reasons you attacked Blaser?"

"Sort of."

"McGee, what do you mean?" She tried to catch his eye again, but he refused to make contact. She thought that he was closing up again. Then, he sighed and seemed to make a decision.

"Ziva, have you ever been so angry, so...I don't know... have you ever hated someone so much that when something bad happened, you just lost control?"

Ziva stared but didn't speak.

Tim didn't continue at first, but took a deep breath and said, "I haven't. I never felt that way about anyone before, not to that extent, but when I saw Blaser shoot Sarah...I remembered all these things that had happened to me, all these people who had hurt me before... Ziva, I don't know if I can do this."

"Do what, McGee?"

He opened his mouth, looking afraid of what he was about to say, but before he could answer, a shriek from the doorway interrupted him.

"Tim! You're awake!" Abby ran over and hugged Tim tightly and then promptly released him and hit his arm. "Don't you _ever_ do that again, McGee! You had us planning your funeral!"

"What?"

"You were lying around completely inert, McGee! You didn't even have a gunshot wound. It's like you dropped dead from the stress, which I know has been bad." She hugged him again. "Have you met Liz yet?"

"Was she here?" Tim struggled to keep up with the whirlwind conversation.

"I guess not. She'll probably come around again... or else, you can track her down when you get out. When _are_ you getting out, Tim?"

"I-I don't know. They haven't said."

"Well, you'll have to go and see Sarah, too. She'll be happy to know that you're okay."

"Is _she_ okay?"

Abby's face fell a little. "I'm not sure, Tim. She's pretty bad, but she woke up, too, and the doctors were surprised by that. She'll be okay. That's what Tony's been saying anyway." She looked down at her watch. "Oops! I'm supposed to be at work. I've got to go, but I'll come by later, okay?"

"Okay."

"Great! I'm so glad you're back, Tim!" Abby hugged him once more and then left.

Ziva waited for Tim to continue with what he'd been saying before, but the moment of confidence had passed. He leaned back in the bed and put his hand up to his head... then, he began to feel the netting that currently covered his hair.

"What's this?"

"If I am not mistaken, that is tracking your brain waves."

"Really? An EEG?"

"Yes, Agent McGee. We can remove that now, along with some... other things, if you don't mind," the nurse said as she entered the room.

Tim blushed at her words. "Yeah, I'd like that... um, Ziva, would you mind...?"

Ziva smiled evilly. "Of course not, McGee. Have fun." She stood and left the room.

"D-did I yell at you last night?" Tim asked the nurse, timidly.

"You weren't doing much talking, Agent McGee. You had a tube down your throat."

"I must have just been _thinking_ yelling at you." He looked down in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, uh... I didn't catch your name."

"Marissa. Sorry for something that you didn't do? Agent McGee, I wouldn't have taken offense even if you _had_ been able to yell at me. This is my job. I know how patients react. I've seen much worse. Now, would you like to have all your bodily functions back under your express control?"

Tim blushed again. "Yes, please."

"Okay, then. Let's get started. It won't take long." Marissa closed the door.


	41. First Meeting

**Chapter 40: First Meeting**

"Come on, Liz. You said you'd try again," Michelle prompted.

"I don't know, Michelle. I just... I don't know what to say. What if...?"

Michelle grabbed her hand and dragged Liz through the entrance to the hospital. "Come on. You're just nervous. McGee is awake now. You can talk to him and get real responses!"

"I know. I just..."

"I know you're nervous. I know this is stressful for you, but you don't have to look on it as anything other than an introduction. Don't try too hard to make a connection. I can tell you from personal experience that sometimes, family connections aren't all that great. Just relax and talk to him like you would to any new acquaintance."

"Aren't you supposed to be at work, Agent Lee?"

Michelle turned around and her eyes widened when she looked up at Gibbs. "Y-yes, Agent Gibbs. I'm here to talk to the hospital adminstration, to get Tanner's records, sir."

Liz smiled a little at Michelle's discomfiture.

"I see you decided to make one trip out of it then."

"Yes, Agent Gibbs."

"Carry on, then. You're blocking the doorway." He walked around them and headed for the ICU.

"Why do you act so differently around them?" Liz asked as they walked to the elevator, a discreet distance behind Gibbs.

"You've talked to Gibbs before. He's intimidating. I don't acquit myself very well around him... or any of them for that matter. I was a substitute for awhile, maybe four months. When Gibbs came back, the old order was reasserted and I was back in Legal again. I just didn't have the time that McGee had to make a space for myself." The elevator doors opened. "You're not the only one who gets nervous, Liz. Now, get in there." Michelle gave Liz a gentle shove in the direction of Tim's room. "I'll be down talking to admins if you need to detox when you're done."

"Okay... thanks, Michelle."

"Just get going, Liz."

"Right." Liz watched Michelle get back on the elevator and then took some hesitant steps down the hall. There was a female agent sitting outside Tim's room. She gave Liz a thorough glance and then nodded. Liz stopped at the door and took a few deep breaths. "Okay, Liz. Get going." She stepped into the room and saw Tim curled up in her preferred thinking pose. He didn't appear to have even noticed her; so she took the opportunity to examine him when there was something beyond his body to be seen. She would be the first to admit that she was easily intimidated, but she was also very good at reading people. She understood them better than many would assume. Liz could see that Tim was going through something awful. He was definitely brooding.

"Hi," she said softly.

Tim's head jerked up and she watched as first confusion and then anxiety washed over his face.

"Hi," he responded, equally softly.

Neither of them moved. They just stared at each other, trying to figure out what should be said.

"Would you like to sit down?" he asked.

"Thanks. I'm Liz."

He nodded. "I'm Tim."

They stared at each other again.

"Is this a bad time?" Liz asked, just as Tim blurted, "Nice to meet you."

"No, it's fine," Tim answered while Liz said, "Nice to meet you, too."

They both laughed.

"Sorry, I'm not quite myself," Tim said. "I'm usually a little less clumsy."

"I'm not. I'm always clumsy," Liz admitted.

"I don't know... what to say to you, Liz." Liz flushed, but he continued quickly. "It's not that I'm not happy to meet you, to see you again, but everything is so... not..."

"Normal?" Liz finished."

"Yeah. How much do you know?"

"The highlights. If it weren't for the fact that I had Director Shephard and Agent Gibbs saying the words, I wouldn't have believed it."

"I wouldn't have believed it either if it hadn't been happening to me."

"What would have happened if I had come around six months ago? I mean, before you... remembered all this."

Tim shrugged. "I don't know, Liz. I don't know. I probably would have written you off as a deranged fan." He tried to smile, but his heart wasn't in it. "If I actually _had_ met you, it probably could have killed me."

"You're kidding, right?"

He shook his head. "It took quite a while before I could even accept that this was real."

"Tim, I..."

"No. Let's not talk about it. There are plenty of things that we can talk about instead. For instance, how old are you?"

"Almost twenty."

"You're in college?"

"Yeah. I'm a history major."

"History, huh? Any particular era?"

Liz understood what he was doing, and for the time being, she was willing to play along.

"Not just yet. The older it is, the better, but I haven't quite settled on anything. I'm kind of a fan of the Near and Middle East."

"And... your parents? The Lukes?"

"Right, uh, my mom is a mom and my dad is a psychologist. They've been married for about thirty years and I'm their only child."

"Yeah, big surprise," Tim muttered.

"What?" Liz was surprised at the bitterness he'd expressed. It wasn't like he'd ever met them before.

For a moment, he looked frightened. "Oh, nothing."

"No, Tim. What did you say?"

"I don't want to... mess things up, Liz."

"We've only known each other for five minutes," Liz said, laughing.

"Not between us."

She stopped laughing. "Then, what? Tim, you can't just say something like that and then pretend it didn't happen."

Green eyes met hazel. Liz was almost scared by what she saw in Tim's eyes, but she maintained eye contact.

"Your parents knew about me. They didn't want me."

"What do you mean?"

"I-I wasn't what they wanted," Tim said and blinked back tears. "They wanted you, but they wouldn't take me."

"Why not?" Liz asked, suddenly appalled.

"I kept you from really being affected by the fire, and you were still happy and funny. People loved you. You were alive. I wasn't. I was the stereotypical disturbed teenager and they couldn't deal with that. The social worker approved the adoption and I was left over."

"They knowingly split us up?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, Tim. I'm sorry."

He smiled. "It wasn't your fault. You don't even remember it."

"How do you know that?"

"Because you didn't remember me. No one did."

"What happened to you, Tim? Not in the... case. What happened to you before?"

"Which set of memories do you want to hear? Tim's or Thom's?"

"Thom's."

This time, his laugh was tinged with disbelief. "You _don't_ want to hear those memories. _I_ don't even want to remember them."

"Were they that bad?"

"Yes. I was homeless, Liz. For five years. I _really_ don't want to talk about it." _At least not to you._

"Okay. How about how you got to NCIS?"

"Well, part of it was because that's where my... creators wanted me to be, but it wouldn't have worked if I hadn't felt it myself. I wanted to help people. I wanted to do something that would make... the world better. Tony, Ziva and Gibbs came from the usual places: the army, police departments. I, on the other hand, came from MIT."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That's me. The nerdy agent."

"What about your... other family?" Liz asked. This was shaky ground and she knew it.

"They don't exist. There is no other family. My memories say that my parents died, and my sister turned out to be working for the people who started this whole thing. Sarah's still my sister though. We've gone through quite a bit together. I couldn't reject her."

"How? How can you just accept her like that? Aren't you... angry at her for lying to you?"

"Maybe a little at first, but I can't just push her away. Partly because of my memories. I still love her. Partly because she put her life on the line for me, and partly because I can't give up on people. I've had too many people give up on me."

"Oh."

"I'm not what you expected, huh?"

"Well, certainly not what I expected when I got up three days ago."

"What about when you found out who I am?"

"No." She smiled sheepishly. "Not even then. I didn't expect you to be so... I don't even know what to call it."

"I don't either."

"But there are a lot of things you're carefully not saying." He raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "I can see it in your eyes, Tim. The things you remember, the things you don't want to talk about, I don't know what they are, but I can see them in your eyes."

"I've never been a good liar," he mused. "That's probably why. My eyes give me away."

"You should talk about them. Repression isn't a good idea." She flushed. "My dad's a shrink."

"Right. Well, the things that are wrong with me, I would defy even your father being able to straighten out."

"True, but I think talking would help."

"I'll keep that in mind, but, I, for one, am not ready to go through five years of horror. Not yet."

It was at that moment that Liz truly felt Tim was older than she was. There was sternness in his features that brooked no argument. It wasn't as intimidating as Gibbs' stare, but there was an obvious _don't go there_ vibe that she couldn't combat.

"C-Can you tell me about _our_ parents? Can you remember them?"

Involuntarily, Tim remembered seeing them on the tables in the morgue. He shut his eyes quickly.

"What is it, Tim?"

"Nothing." He shook his head and opened his eyes again, although they were suspiciously wet. "Yes, I remember."

She was bursting to ask him what had made him react that way, but she didn't, out of respect for his reticence to discuss disturbing memories.

"Tell me about them. Please."

Finally, some of the tension eased from Tim and he smiled. It completely changed his countenance. "Okay. I can do that."

As he began to relate some of his childhood memories, she noticed that he had to pause every so often, obviously to be sure that he was accessing the right set. She smiled encouragingly, appreciating his efforts, and thought that just maybe they _could_ become real siblings.


	42. Life Isn't Just Sunshine And Roses

**Chapter 41: Life Isn't Just Sunshine and Roses**

"You were late this morning, Abby."

"You _know_ where I was, Gibbs," Abby said as she waltzed into the lab after her lunch break. "I don't know why you have to stand there lurking when you know exactly what I'll say."

"It's a habit, I guess," Gibbs said. He was not in the mood for jokes, and Abby noticed it.

"What do you have for me, el Capitain?" she asked more seriously as she put on her lab coat.

"I want you to get prints off this syringe and I need you to tell me what's in it."

"Where's it from, Gibbs?"

"McGee's room."

She cocked her head to the side. "What happened?"

"Last night, someone tried to kill him."

"What? He was fine this morning."

"That's because the would-be assassin didn't succeed. However, he might not be especially forthcoming about himself and I'd like to have _some_ info about him." He also passed off the prints he'd taken from the man. "You can cross-check to see if there are any other prints besides his, but I doubt there will be."

"Where is he?"

"In the hospital, currently."

"Why?"

"I shot him."

"I should have known you'd be there to fight off the bad guys, Gibbs."

"Always, Abbs."

"I'll find out all I can about this scumbag and let you know."

"Good." Gibbs kissed her on the cheek and passed off what was sure to be only one of many Caf-Pows for that day.

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"Can I please get out of this bed, put on some clothes that have backs, and leave?" Tim asked. Liz had left a couple of hours ago, leaving him bored and itching to leave the hospital. "Please, Marissa? I'm fine. See, look!" He spread his arms wide. "I'm great."

"I'm sorry, Agent McGee, but you were in a coma and nearly died. We don't know why. That kind of reaction requires just as much of an investigation as you would for a mysterious death on a military base."

"But I'm _fine_."

"No, Agent McGee, you're not. I'm not privy to the details of what's been going on with you, but I am aware of the seizures you suffered and the fact that you had some sort of psychotic breakdown that resulted in your comatose state. You don't bounce back from that in a day."

Tim gave her a frustrated glare. "Fine. Can I least have some real clothes? And can I see my sister?"

"You already saw your sister. She was just here."

"It's complicated, okay? I don't have the time to explain my complex family relationships. She's in ICU and I haven't seen her since I saw her being shot. Can I just go and visit her? Please?"

"I'll check with your doctor, okay, Agent McGee?"

"Doctors," Tim said in disgust.

"You don't trust us, do you?"

"Another long story."

"Anything in your life that _isn't_ a long story?"

"When I find something, I'll you know," Tim said, the frustration draining from him as he sank back to the bed.

"I'm sure it will be fine for you to visit your sister. I just have to get the okay from Dr. Peterson."

"Yeah. Okay," Tim said in a voice that clearly indicated that he didn't believe her.

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Marissa walked out of the room and started down the hall when she saw one of the many visitors Tim had received over that last few days.

"Excuse me, um, Agent... DiNozzo, isn't it?"

"Yeah, what can I do for you?" he asked in a faux-sexy voice.

She rolled her eyes. "Control yourself, kid. I'm married and way out of your league."

He feigned injury. "Oh, wow, slam. I'm hurt." His face cleared and he asked, "What's up?"

"What happened to Agent McGee?"

"What do you mean?" Tony asked, then he sobered. "Has he–?"

"Oh, no. Nothing like that. He's not very... trusting, though."

"That's kind of a recent thing. Probie's usually too trusting."

"Then, what changed him?"

"I can't tell you that. It's part of an ongoing investigation." _Besides, you'd never believe it,_ he added to himself.

"I'm worried about his mental health, Agent DiNozzo. Agent McGee had a mental breakdown that nearly killed him. If he doesn't get it in hand, there's no guarantee that he won't have the same thing happen again. So, we need to know what is going on."

"I really can't tell you. That's something you'll have to take up with Special Agent Gibbs or Director Shephard at NCIS." Tony continued toward Tim's room, but then stopped and turned back. "I can tell you one thing, Marissa."

"What's that, Agent DiNozzo?"

"Don't lie to him. McGee has had a long line of people who lied to him and took advantage of him. Don't pretend things are all fine. He knows they're not, and you'll never get anywhere with him if you try it. Not now."

She nodded. "Thank you. Do you think you could get him some regular clothes?"

"What?"

"We can't release him yet, but there's no reason to keep him confined to a hospital gown when most of what we'll be doing will involve his mind."

"I can do that," Tony said. He turned around again and went back to the elevators.

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Gibbs strode into the lab, noting the blaring music with distaste. "Well, Abby? What do you have?"

"Murderous intentions, Gibbs," Abby said darkly, glaring at the results on her screen.

"Let's start with something a little less personal."

"Okay, the syringe was filled with tetradotoxin. Before you ask, it's a neurotoxin found in puffer fish."

"And?"

"And there's no known antidote. This stuff can kill in twenty minutes once it's administered. There's a whole long list of depressing symptoms that develop as the poison progresses through the system like respiratory distress, mental impairment, cardiac arrhythmia, and eventually respiratory failure. Even worse, the victim can remain lucid during the entire thing which can last up to eight hours. It's freaky stuff, Gibbs. The amount in the syringe was _way_ more than Gage needed to kill Tim."

"Gage is our guest?"

"Yes. Alan Milner Gage, although he's supposed to have been dead for about ten years. I'd be happy to rectify the mistake, Gibbs."

"I'm sure you would, Abby, but I think you'd have to wait in line."

"Here's his file."

"Thanks." Gibbs started to leave the lab once more.

"Wait, Gibbs! I'm not done!"

"What else, Abby?"

"Well, you _did_ ask me to find some other fingerprints."

When she didn't continue, Gibbs sighed. "Are we really going to place this game, Abby?"

"Come on, Gibbs! I've been having a bad day. Humor me."

"Okay. So, I take it you found some other fingerprints?"

"Yes, of course I did, Gibbs. It was really difficult and it might stumped a lesser forensic scientist, but I had the know-how and the equipment suitable for the task."

"The fingerprints, Abby!"

"Alright, alright. Here they are. They belong to one Richard Warrington, a lawyer for Branson, Branson and Jones. Why do they use their names for their companies? I don't get it. What do you think...?" She turned around and Gibbs was gone. "Well, at least that's normal," she said to herself and then began shutting everything down. It was late enough that she could sneak out without being dinged for bugging out early yet again.

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Gibbs was almost running down the hall, almost not quite. He knew that Blaser and Warrington were "conferencing," which he called scheming on ways to get him out. Since Warrington was already in his hands, he didn't want to let him get away.

"Jethro? I was just on my way..." Jenny trailed off as she watched Gibbs completely ignore her and keep walking. "Agent Gibbs! Where are you going?"

"To arrest Warrington."

Jenny caught up to him quickly, a nice feat in the heels she was currently wearing. "To arrest or to kill?"

"That depends on whether or not he resists."

"He's a lawyer, Jethro, not a mercenary."

"Oh, yeah? Then, why are his prints on the syringe Alan Gage was going to use to kill McGee last night?"

"What?"

"Gage got his orders from _someone_, and it had to be someone who had contact with Blaser. He thinks Sarah is dead because we haven't disabused him of that notion, but he knows that McGee is still alive and he wants him out of the way! He must have told Warrington to give Gage his orders. And he's still in the building!"

"Okay, okay, Gibbs. I'm with you here, but please don't kill him. I don't want to have to add that to the already very odd report I'm writing for this case."

Gibbs paused outside the door. "Only for you," he said smiling roguishly.

She rolled her eyes and opened the door for him.

"Hey, this is a private conference!" Warrington said, angrily. He stood up to confront Gibbs and was quickly thrown against the wall. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Placing you under arrest for complicity to commit murder."

"What?"

"I'm going to recite your Miranda rights because I'm sure that, as a lawyer, you'd find some way to use that against me even if it's not required because you are fully cognizant of your rights. So, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and, I assure you, _will_ be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney..." Here Gibbs paused and looked over his shoulder at Blaser who was staring murderously at Gibbs. "You might want to get another lawyer yourself, Blaser." He turned his attention back on Warrington. "Do you understand these rights?"

"This is ridiculous!"

"I take it that's a yes? Good. Let's go." Gibbs grabbed Warrington by the back of his suit jacket and forced him out of the room. "A guard will escort you back to your cell, Blaser."

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"Happy now?" Jenny asked when Gibbs returned to his desk a few minutes later.

"Happier than I was."

"So, we now have three men in custody: the mastermind, a lackey, and a lawyer, all connected to the same company. What's the plan here, Gibbs?"

"Which one do you think would break first?"

"Certainly not Blaser. He has the most to lose."

"How interested are you in making a deal with the lackey?"

"How interested should I be?"

"Well, if we can get him to give up the location of their facilities, give us names of other teams, give testimony against Blaser..."

"Details would have to be up to the court, technically, but I think that I could get him a light sentence, maybe even Witness Protection. This is a group that depends on absolute secrecy. We need to break that secrecy."

"How were your talks with our sister agencies?"

Jenny smiled. "Productive. Those memos had traitors within both the FBI and the CIA, along with some senatorial aides. Even if, by some miracle, Blaser gets away with attempted murder, he won't get away with treason. So far, the media hasn't had an inkling of what's going on here, but that won't last forever. I'm actually considering just handing him over."

"Really?"

She shrugged. "I want him and his entire organization out of commission. If I have to join hands with the FBI and the CIA to do it, I don't care." At Gibbs' disbelieving stare, she added, "I learned something last year, Jethro. Don't look so surprised."

"Relieved is a better term."

"Ha ha. Very funny. Feel free to lean on Gage and Warrington. Gage we can easily put away for years, but I'd rather get some higher people."

"I'm on it. I think I'll drag Tony and Ziva back to work."

"That might be a good idea. I'd like to have my people actually _working_ for their salaries."

"Understood, Director," Gibbs said, smiling. He stood up and headed to the elevator.

In mock sympathy, Jenny said, "I think Blaser's life is about to get quite miserable."

"Well, into every life some rain must fall." Gibbs said as the elevator doors closed.


	43. Invictus

**Chapter 42: Invictus**

"Okay, Agent McGee. Are you ready?" Marissa asked.

"Yeah. I guess so." Tim looked in the bathroom mirror yet again. Tony had been nice enough to not only bring him some clothes, but also a razor. He didn't like the look in his own eyes, but he felt human again which was a nice change. It was amazing how easily one adjusted to the simplest things in life. Right now, every action he took, eating, standing, getting dressed, was a marvel because he hadn't been doing it on his own for awhile. Soon he'd go back to taking it for granted, but for now, he relished the feeling. There was something about it. Maybe it was Thom, being able to live even if only vicariously. Maybe it was Tim enjoying it after his coma. Whatever it was, it forced him to make a decision. It was a hard decision to make, but he didn't feel as though he had any other choice.

"Agent McGee?"

Tim shook himself out of his reverie and walked out of the bathroom. "I'm ready," he said. Marissa had been nothing but kind to him, completely honest and up-front, but everything that was Thom inside him was screaming its distrust for anyone wearing a stethoscope, anyone in a position of power over him.

"Then, let's go." Marissa had seen people who didn't like hospitals before. She had a lot of experience with various patient attitudes, but Tim's was different in a way she couldn't quite pinpoint. She really wanted to know what made him this way, but so far she had been told that everything was on a need-to-know basis and she didn't; however, she'd taken Tony's advice to heart and had been completely upfront with him about what was going on, what they knew and didn't know. It had seemed to help a little. Now, as they reached the ICU, she noticed an eagerness to his step that hadn't been there before. Tim was genuinely excited to see his other sister, and he was showing a positive emotion for the first time since his emergence.

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When Tim stepped into the ICU, he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting to see. At best, Sarah would be seriously injured, at worst... but the sight of her lying so still in the bed made him frightened. He wanted to run away, to avoid seeing another person die. Firmly, he mastered the impulse and approached her.

"She might not wake up for awhile," Marissa said softly. "Do you want to wait here?"

Tim nodded and sat down beside the bed. Marissa watched him as he simply looked at Sarah, not speaking, not moving, barely breathing, just looking. She shook her head in concern and withdrew, leaving them alone.

"Sarah?" Tim said. "Sarah? Can you hear me?" She didn't respond; so he took her hand gently in his own and lifted it slowly to his cheek. "I need you, Sarah," he whispered so quietly it was barely more than mouthing the words. She didn't awaken, but Tim didn't leave. He stayed with her, holding her hand, just waiting for her stir.

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So, Mr. Gage, you're in pretty dire straits," Tony said as he walked into the hospital room. Gage lay on a bed, but was also handcuffed to the railing. "Assault on a federal agent, attempted murder of a federal agent, impersonating a physician. You'd probably have been better off to have injected yourself that syringe once you'd failed."

Gage rolled his eyes. He seemed singularly unintimidated. If Tony were actually faced with bringing this guy down, he'd have been nervous. Gage wasn't particularly large, but he was obviously well-trained and probably in much better shape. "In case you haven't noticed, whoever you are–,"

"Agent DiNozzo, NCIS," Tony interrupted. He was impressed with Gage. In spite of the hatred he had for his attempt to kill Tim, he couldn't help but be intrigued by this man who didn't seem to care about how shaky of ground he was on and what Tony could do to him. It wasn't sociopathic; it was a kind of chilling practicality. Gage was a mercenary in the oldest tradition.

"Whatever. I am alive... as are both of your fellow agents. There's no death penalty for attempted murder."

"You're right." Tony looked off to the side as is talking to someone else. "'Attempted murder? It's not like he killed someone.'" He turned back to Gage. "You ever see _Robocop_? Two of the best hours of my life."

"What are you doing here, _Agent DiNozzo_? Do you want me to take your gun and say something like 'Good night, sweet prince'? 'Cause right now, I'm willing to oblige."

"Ah, so you _have_ seen it. I thought you had that look about you. They couldn't top the original."

"Is there a point to all this?"

"To _Robocop_? No, just professional curiosity. The real question is do you want to spend the rest of your life in prison? Sure, you didn't actually succeed, but the maximum penalty is life, and with an assault charge added on, plus the fact that your crimes were committed against federal law enforcement officials, well, you get the idea."

"So, what do you want, then, Agent DiNozzo?" At Tony's silence, he chuckled. "Please, I know you're going to offer me a deal, and more than likely, I'll take it because being arrested is like signing your own death certificate in this business."

"Well, there could be some loyalty issues."

"Loyalty? I'm a hired gun, Agent DiNozzo. Blaser won't have any loyalty for me and I have none for him. I stand a better chance of living a life, in prison or out of it, if I help you get rid of Blaser and all his little floozies."

"Wow, a reasonable criminal. Go figure. It's a good thing Ziva wasn't the interrogator. She'd be terribly disappointed at not being required to _persuade_ you to help us."

"Yeah, amazing. So what's the deal?"

"You tell us everything you know, names, dates, location of your training facility, indicate your willingness to testify, and we lower your sentence to something with parole attached to it and then help you stay alive."

"Okay."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Tony laughed. "Man, this is the easiest interrogation I've ever conducted."

"Consider it an early birthday present," Gage said facetiously.

"Well, thank you, Mr. Gage. I definitely have never had a birthday present from a soon-to-be-convicted felon." He sat down in a chair, pulled out his notebook and a recorder. "Let's start with the basics, name, any aliases, date of birth, residence..."

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When Sarah opened her eyes, she saw the ceiling, but as soon as she felt someone holding her hand, she looked over at her visitor. Tim's head was bowed and he looked asleep. But he was there! He was alive! That made her feel better than she had since her first awakening.

"Tim? How long have you been here?" she asked, a little embarrassed by the weakness in her voice.

Tim's head jerked up and tears filled his eyes as he met her gaze. "You're alive!" he said and leaned over the railing to hug her tightly.

"Ow! Tim, let me breathe! It's hard enough without having the air squashed out of my lungs," Sarah said lightly, but she was holding back tears of her own.

"Sorry." Tim let her go completely and sat back down, but he did not release her hand. "I thought you were dead, Sarah."

"I know. I almost was," she admitted. "And I still might be."

"No!" Tim said, shaking his head. "No."

"Tim..."

"No, Sarah. You can't."

"Aren't you being a little selfish, bro? It's _my_ life, after all." Sarah said. To her surprise, Tim actually looked ashamed. "Hey, I was just kidding."

The tears now spilled down his cheeks. "No, Sarah, you're right. I _am_ being selfish. I was being selfish after I saw Blaser gun you down."

"From what I've heard, you weren't entirely in control."

"I know, but it wasn't just you that made me attack him. It was everything. Sarah, I meant what I said. I _need_ you."

"What about your sister?"

"She's... she's lovely, and I hope that I haven't scared her off, but she's still a stranger. We'll have to build our relationship up from scratch... and she'll never really understand, anymore than Abby or Tony or Ziva or Gibbs... or anyone else can understand. Sarah, please, let me be completely selfish and beg you not to die. Don't leave me here alone."

Sarah finally let the tears fall. "Tim, you're not alone. You have family, friends. You have a life. I'm just... damaged goods."

"Don't you see, Sarah? That's all I am, too. I know who I was, but I don't know who I _am_, now." Tim had dropped his eyes to her hand. "I don't know how I can... exist as I am."

"Do you wish you had forgotten it all, Tim?" Sarah asked. This meant more to her than he knew because it had been only at her insistence that all the blocks had been removed.

"No," he said after a long silence. "I couldn't forget Thom. He doesn't deserve that. It's just that I don't know how to be both of us, and I don't know how to be the new person I'm becoming."

"What do you mean, Tim?" Sarah asked.

"We _are_ our memories, Sarah. What we remember makes us who we are. Our beliefs, our interests, everything about us is defined by the experiences we had in our past." He released her hand and stared at his. "I have two pasts. It doesn't matter than one is fake and one is real; I remember them both. Even if half of the events never took place, I remember them as if they did, and I... I'm pulled in two directions when I have to make decisions and... interact with other people and react to situations." He dropped his head into his hands. "I understand, Sarah. I really do."

Sarah reached out, slowly, and put a hand on his back. "What do you understand?"

"Dying would be easier. There wouldn't be the tumult of trying to figure out how to live in a normal world when normal can never describe who you are." Tim hesitated and then said, "I _was_ dying, Sarah. I was halfway there, probably more."

"When?"

"After Blaser shot you. I saw you fall and first I wanted to kill Blaser and then, I just wanted to die myself. I was slowly but surely on my way out. I don't know what pulled me back, but something or someone did, and I can't..." Tim stopped as he felt the burning in his throat of unshed tears. "...I can't do it again."

Sarah took Tim's hand again. "Why, Tim? Please, tell me why. Tell me what's keeping you here."

Tim looked at her again. She could see the chaos in his eyes, the fear, the hatred, the love, so many emotions. "Life."

"What do you mean?" _I need a reason,_ she finished silently.

"I don't know how to live, but I... I _want_ to. I want to..." He looked up at ceiling. "...I want to see the sun come up in the morning. I want to be on the receiving end of Abby's hugs again." He blushed. "I want to get to know Liz. I want to work, sleep, walk... I realized it before I came down here. I don't know if I can, but I _want _to. Living may be impossible, but I'm going to fight for it, and I need you to fight with me, Sarah."

Sarah started to cry in earnest. "I don't know if I can do that, Tim. I don't know if I have any fight left."

Seemingly incongruously to the situation at hand, Tim smiled. Even though the smile was tinged with fear, it was still a smile.

"Do you remember 'Invictus,' Sarah?"

Sarah laughed, a sad, tired laugh, through her tears. "I don't think this is the time for 19th-century poetry."

"I think this is precisely the time for it. How does it start?"

"Tim, you know this really didn't happen."

"I know, but haven't you been listening? It doesn't matter whether or not it really happened. I still remember it... and so do you because we talked about it. I'll start it then. 'Out of the night that covers me...'"

Sarah looked at him hopelessly, but said quietly, "'Black as the pit from pole to pole,'"

Tim jumped in. "'I thank whatever gods may be...'"

She met Tim's eyes as she recited, "'For my unconquerable soul.' You take the next stanza."

He nodded, tears in his own eyes. "'In the fell clutch of circumstance/I have not winced nor cried aloud./Under the bludgeonings of chance/My head is bloody but unbowed.' Your turn."

"'Beyond this place of wrath and tears/Looms but the horror of the shade,/And yet the menace of the years/Finds and shall find me unafraid.'"

Tim nodded and said the next line. "'It matters not how strait the gate,'"

"'How ch-charged with punishments the scroll,'"

"'_I_ am the master of my fate:'"

Then, together, they said the last line, almost whispering the triumphant sentence: "'I am the captain of my soul.'"

Sarah said, "What did Henley know?"

"Hey, we're only worried about our sanity. He was worried about losing his foot," Tim said, laughing sadly. Then, he sobered. "Sarah, I was pulled back. I can't go on again. I need you to stay. I need you to find a reason."

"What do I have, Tim? I don't even have you, not really. All I have is Jane."

Tim remembered what Blaser had said to her. "What did that mean?"

"It meant that Blaser is my father... in a manner of speaking."

"What manner?"

"I didn't remember this, Tim. I promise, I wasn't making it up when I said I didn't know how I started. Blaser adopted me, probably with the express purpose of pressing me into service. That's what I have."

"No. You're wrong, Sarah. You have me in every way that matters. I may not have chosen the life that I have, but I still want you in it. Even if Liz and I can find some way of being who we are, you are still my sister. I told you on the roof that I'd be your brother if you wanted me. I wasn't being casual. I meant it, and I still mean it. You still have me. You can disown Blaser. I think his own mother would."

"Tim, don't make a promise you can't keep."

"I'm not. I promise you, Sarah. You are my sister."

"I can't promise."

A doctor came to check on Sarah. "I'm sorry, Agent McGee. Visiting hours are over for the night."

He nodded and looked over his shoulder to see Ziva standing patiently at the doorway. He looked back at Sarah. "Then, don't promise that you'll live. Promise me that you'll try. Please, do that for me."

"Tim, I don't..."

"_You_ are the master of your fate. _You_ are the captain of your soul. Not me, not Blaser. You. Please, promise me that you'll try. Find a reason."

Two pairs of tear-filled eyes met and held. Neither Ziva nor the doctor dared interrupt.

Finally, Sarah nodded. "I promise, Tim. I promise that I'll try."

"Thank you." Tim stood, kissed Sarah on the cheek and then walked out with Ziva.


	44. Confessions

**Chapter 43: Confessions**

Ziva allowed the walk to proceed in silence. As when she had led Tim to Jenny's office, Tim was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice the circuitous route she chose to go back to his room. They ended up in the atrium, and Tim suddenly realized that they weren't back in his room.

"What are we doing here, Ziva?"

"Taking the long way back," she said.

"Why?"

"Because Abby is waiting there for you, and I wish to finish our conversation of this morning. Without the interruption that Abby would no doubt provide."

"Why?" he asked again.

"Because you never answered my question, McGee."

Tim leaned on the railing and looked down toward the floor, thirty feet below them. He had been on the verge of blurting out what he felt, to Ziva of all people, and then had been saved by Abby's arrival. He had hoped that she would forget, but Ziva would never forget so easily.

"What was the question?" he asked, although he knew exactly what she meant.

Ziva leaned on the railing as well and glanced sideways at him. "You said that you were so angry that you lost control. Then, you said that you didn't know if you could do this. What is _this_, McGee?"

Tim was silent as he considered the situation he was now in. Ziva would not be the person he'd choose to confide in on regular occasions, and yet she'd been on the receiving end of his confessions before... and she hadn't judged. She had joked, but not to the degree that Tony did, which, while he appreciated what Tony was doing, he couldn't bear in this case. He could speak to Sarah, and had, but what he had told her didn't cover it all. She wasn't ready to hear all that he had to say. He didn't really think that anyone was. _He_ wasn't ready himself. Gibbs was smart enough to have understood exactly what he meant in the elevator, but Gibbs didn't exactly invite confidences either. It was hard to know what to do.

As he thought all this, he felt himself being turned. Ziva forced him to look at her directly. He stared right into her dark eyes and found himself lost in their regard.

"Tim, neither I nor any other member of NCIS can understand what happened to you, but that does not mean that we do not care about you," she said seriously. "Ever since Tanner did... whatever it was that he did, you have acted as though what happened has separated you from us. It is not true. You have separated yourself. Tell me what you meant."

"It's not like that, Ziva. It's not that simple. I feel pulled in two directions all the time. I don't trust people because of the experiences I'm now remembering, and it seems impossible to ignore them. I don't know how to... or if I _can_... live like this. I don't know if I can live with the memories I have."

"How bad are they, McGee?"

"Worse than I had before."

"That's not an answer."

Tim attempted to turn away, but Ziva didn't let him go. She forced him to continue to look at her.

"What do you want to hear, Ziva?"

"I don't _want_ to hear anything. I want _you_ to trust _me_ to listen."

Tim looked at her, fearful of opening himself up to so much examination when he didn't know what was there. Ziva could see his reluctance and decided to offer up a part of herself to show him that she meant it.

"McGee, you know that Ari was my half-brother, yes?"

He nodded wordlessly.

"Did you also know that I was the one who killed him?"

Tim's mouth opened, whether to answer or just to gape he wasn't sure.

"McGee, I killed my brother. It was not Gibbs who shot Ari." She never broke eye contact, but she fell silent herself for a moment. Then, she said, "You are not the only one with memories you'd rather forget."

At first, she thought Tim would apologize. He looked as though he would, but then, he pulled away from her and leaned on the railing again. Slowly, he clasped his hands together and looked at them.

"I never trusted adults after the social worker sent Lizzie away, after the Lukes rejected me. I ran away and somehow ended up in New York City. Maybe it's because that's where I was when my parents died and I had some sort of idea that I could bring them back by returning there. I don't know. Once I got there, I had five years of being ground into dust. The King made it his mission in life to destroy every ounce of humanity I had left in me. My first night on the streets, he found me and searched my backpack. He said I was worthless. I found a home of sorts in a shelter, but one of the hard and fast rules there was that no one caused any trouble. Trouble would close the shelter if the city officials got wind of it. I kept my head down and slept in the corners. That wasn't enough. The King found me there." He stopped talking for a few seconds, but then continued, "After they kicked me out..."

"Why did they kick you out, McGee?" Ziva asked carefully.

Tim didn't answer. He still couldn't say the words, but he met her eyes again and she nodded slowly, horrified at what he would not say.

"After they kicked me out, I didn't dare try another shelter. I thought I'd die that winter, but somehow, I made it through. I could give you the litany of all that I did, all that _he_ did to me, eating garbage from dumpsters, fighting for a protected spot, but it all comes down to one night, a few months before Tanner did his work."

Ziva didn't say anything when Tim paused. His hands were shaking, but this time, his eyes were dry, as if his experience passed beyond sorrow or grief and into the emptiness that always existed on the other side. His voice, once he started speaking again, was deadly calm; only the shaking gave away the emotion.

"The King found me again. I don't know how he did that time. I was so careful about not being seen, but it didn't matter. He found me. His followers, he always had a few around, cornered me. They held me down... or at least they thought they did. He came and asked me if I remembered the night in the shelter. I was a long ways past struggling or panicking. Panicking and pleading only made him enjoy it more. He had decided that I needed a reminder. ...but I'd decided when I first was forced onto the ground that either I was going to fight him off or I was going to die. I wasn't going to let him do it to me again."

The shaking had stopped, but Ziva saw that he had clasped his hands so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. She wasn't sure if she should try to be comforting or just let him speak. This was not what she had expected from him, but she had said she would listen.

"There was a piece of glass by my hand. It was an alley, not much in the way of city maintenance. As they held me down, I picked up the shard. It was sharp enough to cut my hand up before I got a good hold on it. Right as he came at me, I managed to get free. They weren't expecting me to resist; so few people did. I had felt so cold before that moment, but as soon as I started attacking him, I was so angry that I couldn't even think. I drove that piece of glass at him over and over. I don't know how often I actually hit him. He was afraid though. The scrawny teenager, his favorite punching bag, had made the King afraid." Briefly, Tim's voice twisted with a sickly laugh. Then, his voice became emotionless again. "There was so much blood. Some of it was mine. My hand was scrambled pretty good, and I know that I at least cut his arms. I really wasn't aiming. I just wanted to cause damage, but I was willing to kill him if that was what it took to end it all."

Slowly, achingly slowly, Tim unclasped his hands and flexed his left hand. The pressure he'd put on it revealed thin scars that Ziva had never noticed before.

"They pulled me off him, of course. There were about ten of them and only one of me. It couldn't have lasted for too much longer, but instead of killing me or something like that, they threw me against the wall and dragged the King away. No one came near me after that."

"You won, McGee," Ziva said, although she knew that he hadn't really.

"No. I lost. The King had been trying to destroy me, and by making me desperate enough to kill him, he succeeded. I lay on the ground in a daze for awhile, waiting for them to come back and exact their revenge. It didn't happen. When I finally really came to, I was covered in blood, my hand was aching, and I felt like I had killed myself. I had come this close to taking a human life. He wasn't a good man by any stretch of the imagination, but he was a human being, and I had almost killed him. I never found out what happened, how badly I hurt him, if he had lived or died, but I didn't want to know. And I stopped really trying to get out; I felt as though I had made myself a part of the alleys with that one event. I deserved to be where I had ended up."

He flexed his hand again, and as the blood rushed back, the scars disappeared.

"It took my hand a long time to heal. I didn't dare go to a hospital or any of the local clinics. I took care of it the best I could, but that wasn't much." His hands dangled limply over the railing. "_That's_ what scares me, Ziva."

"What?"

"What if that happens again? I almost killed Blaser, stopping just short of it, just like I almost killed the King of the Alleys. What if I snap like that again? What if I hurt someone else? All of that is still inside me, and I don't know if I can _keep_ it inside."

Ziva reached out and turned Tim's face toward her, gently but firmly forcing him to look at her.

"Tim, don't _try_ to keep it inside. It is a part of who you are."

"I don't _want_ it to be a part of who I am," he said urgently. "I want it to be gone."

"It can't be gone. Whether you like it or not, it _is_ a part of you. You have to face it. You have to... trust that not all people are like that... that... _man_." She spat the word, not being able to find a suitable epithet to describe him. "You have to trust that _we_ will not abandon you as those other people did. Those memories are strong for you, are they not?"

"That's what I remember the most."

"Then, don't try to push them away. I promise that if you try to ignore what you did in the past, it will only make it worse. I killed my brother, but it was necessary to save Gibbs. He was a traitor and had become an evil man. I still regret it sometimes, but it is something I did; I chose that action. You were pushed to the edge of your sanity and attacked, intending to kill, but you didn't in either case." She smiled a little teasingly. "For once, you listened to me, and did not kill the man you wanted to destroy, even when you were barely in control. It took me a long time to learn to trust, and I have not regretted that choice. You trusted us once. Trust us again. We are the same as we were before."

They stood in a tableau, neither breaking the contact, whether it was eyes or hands. Then, Tim tentatively put his arms around Ziva and hugged her. It was not an Abby hug, full of exuberance. It was not tight or passionate, or even loving. Ziva understood it for what it was, an expression of trust. Trust that she would not reject his desire for closeness at that moment, that she would not taunt him for it later. He needed the comfort of personal contact, and Ziva, as rare as her expressions of affection were in the best of times, gave that comfort as best she could.

"Now, McGee, it is time for you to return to your room. Abby will wish to crack your ribs and tell you about her day," Ziva said, smiling again as they drew apart.

Tim nodded and they walked back to his room, almost touching, but not quite.


	45. Takedown

**Chapter 44: Takedown**

True to Ziva's prediction, Abby threw herself on Tim as soon as he walked into the room.

"Tim! How are you?" she asked as she hugged him tightly.

"Better, Abby," he said, without elaborating, but he looked at Ziva as he answered. She smiled at him and then looked down as her cell began to ring. As she answered, Abby released Tim and they both watched Ziva speak.

"Yes? Has it been verified? When? On my way." She disconnected and met the two curious looks. "Gage gave up the location of the training facility. We're going to go and take it down now. Before you even ask, McGee, you cannot go. You have not yet been released. I promise; we will come and tell you what happened."

Looking reluctant but resigned, Tim nodded. After Ziva left, he looked at Abby and asked, "What's been going on?"

Abby smiled. "Now, you ask."

"I've had a lot on my mind, Abby," Tim answered.

She kept one arm around his waist. "I know you have, Tim. Are you ready to rejoin the outside world?" she asked, seriously.

"I'm not sure, but I'm ready to know what you guys have been doing while I've been sleeping," Tim said, looking down at her, a small smile gracing his lips.

"Okay, have a seat. I'll tell you all the _really_ hard work _I've_ been doing to bring the bad guys to justice."

Tim grinned and walked to his bed.

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The NCIS teams pulled up to a building on H Street, only a few blocks from the Verizon Center.

"Are you sure this is the place, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"This is the address Gage gave me. It's up on the top floor, short-term lease."

"How long?"

"One year."

"If he played you..." Gibbs began.

"I don't think he did, Boss."

"Okay," Gibbs nodded. "Let's go.

Three full teams walked into the posh-looking lobby, causing the doorman to stand and begin protesting the invasion, but before he could get any words out, Gibbs overrode him.

"NCIS, federal agents." He flashed his badge and kept walking. The doorman sank back down onto his seat, his eyes wide. There was nothing in his training that had told him how to react to the invasion of federal agents.

"What floor?" he squeaked.

Tony looked back at him and laughed. "We'll show ourselves up, thank you..." He read the nameplate, "...Hank." He winked. "It's a surprise. Don't tell anyone."

"DiNozzo!"

"Coming, Boss!"

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They took the elevator up to the floor just below their target and then split into two groups to take the last flight of stairs at either end of the hallway. Outside the door, Gibbs stopped.

"Unit 2, this is Unit 1, what's your status?"

"Unit 2 is in position."

"Okay, on three. One, two, _three_!" The doors at either end burst open and in spite of themselves, both groups paused momentarily in shock. The rest of the building was made up of apartments, but this entire floor had been converted to... something. There was a large open room that covered most of the area by the stairs and elevators. This was marked by three hallways that went off in various directions, the walls marked by doorways at regular intervals. Then, there was no time to look around as they shouted, "NCIS! Freeze!" over and over again. In the end, there were only three men in the facility who all surrendered in the face of twenty heavily-armed federal agents swarming all over them.

"All's clear, Agent Gibbs, but..." The head of the one of the other NCIS teams hesitated.

"What is it, Agent Barson?" Gibbs asked.

"This way," he said and led Gibbs down one hallway and through a door. It was unmarked, but solid in such a way that indicated no one should go through this door unless they had a legitimate reason. Barson pushed it open and lying on a table, hooked up to machines that looked like a more complicated version of those which Tanner had used on Tim, was a young man. "I don't know what to do with him, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs looked carefully at the equipment. It was all on and running, but there seemed to be something wrong. The man was breathing but his body was slack, both arms and one leg dangling off the edge of the table. Gibbs approached the table and felt for a pulse. There was one, but it was weak.

"Call an ambulance and call Dr. Mallard at NCIS. We'll need him here. He's the closest we have to an expert on this stuff."

"Yes, sir." Barson left the room. A minute or so later, Tony meandered in and stopped short at the sight.

"Is he alive, Boss?"

"Yes, but I don't know if that's a good thing or not."

"I see what you mean," Tony said. "I'd ask what happened to him, but looking at all this technical junk, I don't think you'd know any better than me."

Gibbs looked over at Tony. He debated whether or not that remark deserved a smack and decided against it. There was something about the room, something oppressive. He knew that Tony was thinking the same thing as he was, though neither of them actually voice the thought: _What if this had happened to Tim?_ It seemed only a few minutes later that Ducky's voice could be heard commenting on the rarity of getting called out when there was no dead body to examine and Jimmy saying in return that there was a first time for everything.

When he stepped into the room, he took in the scene and said simply, "I thought this might be why I was called in, but I'd hoped I was wrong." Without waiting for an answer, he walked over to the man on the table. "I don't know what you think I can do here, Jethro. I only watched Tanner at work. I don't know what any of this is supposed to do."

Suddenly, Jimmy piped up, "Well, obviously, since this is used to track his heart rate, this machine must have something to do with regulating it." Oblivious to the stares he was getting at the moment, he walked around the body, touching wires at various points, following them back to the wall of equipment. "The wires leading to his head are a lot more tangled, but these look like regular EEG probes. These here look as though they're set up to deliver a small electric current and... um..." Finally, he looked back at the other three men in the room. "...uh, I like doing logic puzzles. You know, if this does such and such then..."

"Well, Mr. Palmer, if that is the case, then how would you proceed?" Ducky asked amiably.

Jimmy was still distracted by Gibbs' intense stare. "Well, uh, I don't really know, but... uh, I'd say that we should keep the leads that are tracking his vitals connected until the end so that we know exactly what we're doing to him. Then, uh, I'd guess that we should turn down the current on that machine there instead of simply removing the probes or turning off the device all at once. If he can survive being disconnected, we should probably know right away."

"And if he can't?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh... if he can't, Agent Gibbs, then, he isn't really alive, is he? What kind of a life could he live hooked up to this thing?"

"What kind of a life can he live if he's dead?" Gibbs returned.

"There are worse things than dying, Agent Gibbs," Jimmy said firmly.

Gibbs nodded. "You're right. Go ahead."

Jimmy was tentative as he approached the dial he assumed controlled the electric current, again based on his assumption that it _was_ current in the first place, and turned it slowly down. Nothing happened except that the EEG readings went lower and lower. He hesitated and looked to Ducky for some sort of guidance. He was monitoring the man himself, looking for any reaction at all. There was none. He shook his head and motioned for him to continue. The dialed reached the off position and the man's heart kept beating, but there was no sign of life beyond the heart beat. Jimmy glanced over at Gibbs who just stood there and then to Tony who was looking over his shoulder and out the door. He was a med student, working in a morgue, and it had been awhile since he'd done anything with a living human being. Still, it's not like there were any other people who could do this either. He nodded to himself and squared his shoulders.

"Okay, I think we can remove these probes now, Dr. Mallard." Jimmy turned back to the wall and began to carefully turn down the other dials, only leaving the EEG and the EKG on. Then, he turned back to the man and really looked at his face for the first time. His eyes were slightly open, but there was no life behind the lids. He joined Ducky in removing all the probes. The man seemed somehow a lot smaller once there was nothing left on him.

"He looks so young," Jimmy said.

"I would venture that he is in his mid-twenties," Ducky began, but the arrival of the EMTs forestalled any long lecture on bone structure or facial construction that he might have given. After the man had been wheeled out on a gurney, there was a tense silence in the room.

Tony was the one to break it. "Well done, Black Lung."

Jimmy blushed. "I might not have done anything for him."

"But he's still alive at the moment. That's more than we had before," Ducky said.

"Palmer, do you think you could figure out how this stuff works?" Gibbs asked

"I-I have no idea, Agent Gibbs. That was mostly guesswork. This stuff is mostly run by computers, and I don't think we want to try it on people when we don't know what it does."

"We'll be hauling all this stuff back to NCIS until such time as the FBI or CIA decides they want to take it over. I want you and Abby to document as much of its function as you can until that happens."

"Yes, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs walked out of the room and began relaying instructions to the remaining teams.

Ducky came up behind him. "Are you going to tell Timothy about that young man?"

"Would it do him any good to know?"

"I doubt it."

"Then, he doesn't need to know, does he?"

"Alright, Jethro," Ducky said, keeping his own reservations to himself.

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"And now?" Tim asked.

"Now, we're kind of waiting to see what happens. They'll probably deal with Gage, although I'd like nothing better than to exercise my mad forensic skills on his mangled and bloody corpse."

Tim couldn't help but laugh, even in the face of being told that he had almost been killed by Gage. Abby's rage on his behalf seemed comical.

"Tim, how can you think this is funny?" Abby asked, distraught. "You could have been killed!"

"Abby, I've been at death's door for about a week now. It's kind of losing its frightening quality."

"Tim, that's not funny," Abby said, now completely serious. "It's not funny at all."

Tim sobered. "I'm sorry, Abby." He reached out to take her hand, but she turned away.

"You're not sorry, Tim, not really. People think that I can't see it, that I'm oblivious to what's going on, but I'm not." She turned back. "You were _dying_, Tim. You were _dying_. Your eyes give everything away." She reached out and caressed his cheek, just below his lashes. "You wish you hadn't woken up. You wish that you _were_ dead... and that everything we've been doing to try and _save_ you had failed."

"Abby..."

"No, Tim. I can't pretend that I don't see it anymore. I can't pretend that I haven't seen the exact same expression in Sarah's eyes... and that scares me." He reached out for her again and again she rejected his touch. "What if Sarah _dies_, Tim?"

Tim blanched at the bald question. "She won't."

Abby smiled, but it was cynical at best. "That's what Tony keeps saying. You've talked to her. I've talked to her. We both know that it's a possibility because she hasn't found something to keep her here. Have you?"

Tim thought back to what he had said to Sarah. Would all that he had said be enough?

As if echoing his thoughts, Abby asked, "If Sarah dies, Tim, will you have enough to keep you here? Or will you just give up?"

"I..."

Mercilessly, Abby interrupted. "Will the life of Tim McGee be enough to keep you alive or will you give in to this other world, this other life that you won't tell me about, that you won't tell _anyone_ about? We're here for you, Tim, but _I_ need to know if you're going to be here for us... for me."

"I don't... I don't know, Abby."

Abby's eyes filled with tears but she nodded and began to gather up her stuff. "You need to figure it out, Tim. Because, eventually, it won't be something you have to think about but something you have to know... and as much as I care for you, I can't decide for you." She walked out.

Ziva and Tony came by later and told Tim about what had happened (with the exception of the man they had found). Tim barely heard them; he was so lost in Abby's question. He had told Sarah that he was going to fight to live, but fighting without hope, as he now knew he was, was worse than not fighting at all.


	46. Conversations and Decisions

**Chapter 45: Conversations and Decisions**

"I just don't think that it's a good idea to release Agent McGee right now," Marissa protested.

"Physically, he is fine."

"We could have said that when he was admitted. The only thing wrong was that he was in a coma and slowly shutting down."

Dr. Baker raised an eyebrow. "Such sarcasm, Marissa. Agent McGee has gotten to you hasn't he."

She shrugged. "Of course he has. I walked by his room tonight and he was sitting on his bed with his legs drawn to his chest and humming a simple lullaby. I don't think anyone could see that and be unaffected. But this has more to do with his mental health than it does my sympathy. If you're right and his mental breakdown caused his coma, then, until we know that he is mentally stable, can we really release him?"

"We'll be requiring a course of therapy, and it's not as though he is friendless. You know that better than most," Baker said wryly.

Marissa had to smile. "Yes, but I've had enough experience with patients like Agent McGee to be worried. He's definitely improved since his first awakening, but I feel that his present state is a fragile one at best."

"The psychologist agrees with you, Marissa, but unfortunately, we need the space, and we don't have a reason to keep him here, physically speaking."

Marissa knew when to give up. She nodded in resignation but asked, "Who's going to be his psychologist?"

"No one here. The NCIS director wouldn't give me details of what happened, but she said that 'due to the sensitive nature of the case' Agent McGee would be referred to one of their psychologists."

"What kind of a case could have had this result?"

"Who knows? The only people in this hospital who do are all either in hospital beds or are guarding people in hospital beds." Baker yawned. "Your shift is about over, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It's been a long day."

"Well, I'd recommend taking advantage of not being on call. Agent McGee will be released in a day or two. He's going to have an MRI and a complete physical tomorrow, just to be sure that everything is going well."

Marissa nodded and yawned herself. It was nearly midnight. This was only her second twelve-hour shift of the week and she needed to get whatever sleep was available.

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Liz had returned to her hotel room after "detoxing" with Michelle. It was hard to believe that her kind, loving, and above all, _understanding_ parents would have done that to Tim. She had heard Tim's side; now, she needed to know her parents' side. She pulled out her phone and dialed home.

"Mom?"

"Lizzie. I've been hoping you'd call us back soon. I don't like you being there all alone."

"Mom, I need to talk to you and Dad."

"Okay. I'll get him." Liz was surprised that there was no confusion in her tone. They must have expected something like this, which, strangely enough, made her angry. She began to pace as she waited.

"Liz?" She heard her dad's voice. "We're both here. What's up?"

"My brother."

"Lizzie..." her mother began.

"No. For once, I'm not going to let you push the subject away. How _could_ you do that? How could you separate us like that? We'd lost our parents. Why, why, _why_ did you make us lose each other, too?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

Then, she heard her mother sigh. "We were afraid, Lizzie."

"Afraid of what? Of Thom? Of a teenager in mourning? Why?"

"You didn't see him, Lizzie... well, you _did_, but you don't remember. We had a few meetings with you both before we made our decision, and every time... _every_ time, Thom was..."

Her dad picked up the thought. "He was damaged. We looked in his eyes and saw how disconnected he was, how _dead_ he seemed to be."

"Of course, he was. His parents were dead. Dad, you're a psychologist. You should know about this already."

"Elizabeth," her dad said sternly, "we are not trying to pretend that we didn't make a mistake. It _was_ a mistake, but I don't know, even now, that we could have helped him. Whatever was hurting him was beyond our power to fight."

"I don't understand," Liz said intensely. "I've looked at him now. He's been going through things that you couldn't possibly understand and it's tearing him apart, but I won't abandon him. Why would you?"

"Lizzie, dear, we weren't ready to have to deal with that every day in our home."

"It's hard enough just counseling kids like that, raising one was more than we could handle."

Liz sat on the bed, thunderstruck. She'd always expected that her parents would just be the same as she saw them. They weren't perfect, but they had taught her so much about compassion and unconditional acceptance of others. She saw this as a betrayal of the trust she'd unthinkingly given them.

"Lizzie?"

Liz shook her head, although they couldn't see her. "I'm not coming back yet. I'll call you later," she finally said and hung up before they could say anything else. She stared at the phone in her hand. She had not only just yelled at her parents, she had hung up on them! This was a rebellion that she had never planned on executing. She was an obedient daughter who never caused problems. She sighed heavily. More de-toxing, as Michelle said.

"Hey, Cassie?"

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Tim was still awake at one. Abby's words just would not leave him. He knew that she was right, but he also knew that, while he may not actually die if Sarah did, his currently-tenuous grip on reality would probably be broken. Sometimes, it was hard to keep himself from slipping into the horrors Thom had experienced. No one should have gone through that, and to find that _he_ had was a shock. It was worse than the shock of realizing that people could be hurt through his innocent use of their characteristics in his book. That whole case had driven the point home with the force of a javelin, but even so, he couldn't stop writing. Contract notwithstanding, he loved writing. It was a way for him to...

Tim's thoughts suddenly petered out as he found that he was thinking of his own memories. It was the first time in days that his own history, real or planted, had taken precedence over the shocking memories of Thom. As strong as those memories were, he knew that he wasn't going to find a way to ground himself by forgetting who he was. He looked around the room.

"I'm not going to find it here," he whispered aloud and looked at his clothes, laying on the chair. He knew that he wasn't supposed to leave yet, that everyone was still very worried about him, but he couldn't stay here. He _needed_ to get to a place that meant something to him. Without further thought, he stood and began to dress, slowly and deliberately. He didn't need to be particularly careful about being discovered. He had been unconsciously paying attention to the nightly visits by the staff since he woke up, and he knew that unless he called them, the nurses would not pay him a visit for a couple of hours at least, maybe longer if Marissa was off shift. She was a lot more observant than the other nurses on the floor. Dr. Baker never came in during the night. It would be easy enough to just walk out. Just as easy as it had been when he had snuck out of the clinic. No one would notice him. As that thought crossed his mind, Tim's hand shook.

_No, I have friends. I have people who will worry when they see me gone._ He looked around and spied a notepad. Quickly, he picked it up and scribbled a note on it. Then, he walked out of the room without a backward glance. The agent guarding his room looked up at his approach, but just smiled and waved when he gave some lame excuse for why he was leaving at such an hour. The nurses at the station never even looked up as he passed.

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"Jimmy, I swear that if I stare at this stuff for one more minute I'm going to go absolutely nuts!" Abby said. "It's after midnight. Please, let's take a break. Gibbs didn't say this was incredibly urgent."

Jimmy looked up, circles under his eyes. "_What_ time is it?" he asked blearily.

"Almost one."

"And we've made almost no progress."

Abby yawned widely. "We're close to getting some schematics."

"But not to how it works."

Abby stood up and started to gather up the equipment.

"Hey! Wait!" Jimmy protested, standing as well.

"No, Jimmy. This is not going to change the course of the world. This is something that should probably simply be destroyed and forgotten. I'm not going to spend another moment on this tonight. And neither are you. Now, help me get this stuff locked up again."

Jimmy could tell that Abby was not going to be swayed, and he suddenly remembered that Michelle said that she'd wait up for him. "Okay," he acquiesced. As they headed to evidence lock up, he blurted out a thought that had been percolating in his mind for the last hour, "We really need a computer expert."

Abby stopped in the midst of opening the door. "Are you crazy or is it just a lack of sleep?"

"Maybe both, but Abby, you can't deny that it would be nice to have McGee here... for more than one reason."

"That's not going to happen, Jimmy."

"Okay, but I don't know if _I_ can figure this out. I'm not technologically savvy."

Abby didn't answer as they dropped the equipment off on its shelf.

Hesitantly, Jimmy decided to try one more angle. "You know, it might even be therapeutic for McGee to see, mechanically-speaking, exactly what was done to him."

"How?"

"Well, I don't have any experience myself, but wouldn't _you_ want to know how and what was done to you?"

Abby locked eyes with Jimmy as they waited for the elevator. "I honestly don't know, Jimmy. I've been watching Tim and I don't know if I'd want to know what it was that gave me two separate lives. Maybe I would; maybe I wouldn't." The elevator arrived and she got in.

As they walked out of the building, she turned to Jimmy and added, "If you really want to do this, I'd run it by Gibbs first. Good night, Jimmy."

"Good night, Abby," Jimmy answered, his mind already churning with the thought of asking Gibbs to possibly traumatize Tim even more. Maybe he'd run it by Ducky first. Gibbs liked Ducky. For now, he knew that Michelle was waiting.

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When Tim got out of the hospital, the first thing he realized was that he wasn't even sure which hospital he'd been taken to. The second thing was that he didn't have any money. Somehow, he'd failed to get his wallet. He had hidden a spare key to his apartment outside the door; so he could still get in, but how was he going to get there? He shrugged and looked around to get his bearings; then, he started walking.

It was only when he'd been walking for about a half an hour that he realized he wasn't even heading to his apartment. Why was it that he was walking toward NCIS? Before his collapse, he'd been in that building for so long that he'd almost forgotten the rest of the world even existed. _Why_ was he going there? He wasn't sure, but he knew that he wasn't going to change his direction. He simply kept walking. Even when the clouds that had been hanging low over the city finally began to dump the rain they'd been threatening for the last couple of days, he kept walking, hardly noticing when he began shivering in the cold and wet. It was almost three in the morning when he finally saw the Navy Yard looming up ahead of him. It was only sheer luck that he still had his ID with him. He didn't remember transferring it over to the pants he wore, but he obviously had.

"You're looking pretty wet... Special Agent McGee," the guard noted as he verified Tim's identity.

"It's raining," he answered, unnecessarily.

"Really? I couldn't tell."

Tim rolled his eyes.

"Do you want to use my umbrella?" he asked, sincerely this time.

Tim chuckled. "No. Thanks, though. I'm already soaked to the skin. A little more water's not going to make a huge difference."

"True. Well, have a nice night, er, day."

"Thanks. You too." Tim headed off, walking slowly, depending on his knowledge of how to get to the building to keep him on track. It didn't fail him. He got inside and, still on autopilot, headed up to the bullpen. He didn't even know what he planned to do until he was already in the process of doing it. Even Abby's ultimatum had faded somewhat into the background, although it was still the original catalyst.

Some considerate soul had placed his backpack on his chair. It was empty, but that didn't matter. He would soon have it filled again. He began to wander from desk to desk, unscrupulously looking through the team's files. He found all the information that had been gathered about Thom, himself, and the company Blaser had set up. Perhaps it was wrong, but the part of Tim that was Thom didn't care about that. He needed information. Within an hour, he had made photocopies of all the data and stowed it in his backpack. During all this time, anyone would have thought he was nearly asleep. His eyes were open, but dragging, and the idea that had formed subconsciously in his brain as he had walked down M Street seemed to have complete control. If anyone had seen him and asked what he was doing, Tim wouldn't have been able to answer. It was like he were some sort of automaton doing the will of his programmer. While he was standing at the photocopier, he briefly worried that he might be doing just that. After a couple more minutes' thought, he dismissed the idea since all the other times he'd obeyed some command, it had been a totally unconscious act.

Another half an hour brought him to his own front door. Why he had no desire to _talk_ to his teammates, his friends, he didn't know, but as he unlocked the door and stepped inside his apartment for the first time in almost two weeks, he knew that he was making the right decision. What he was doing now, no one would understand. He didn't quite understand himself at the moment. Instead of trying to analyze his actions, he simply set his bag on the floor, opened it and pulled out all the files he'd appropriated. Then, he looked around his apartment.

"I'm home," he said aloud. Tim smiled and began to work.

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At around seven that morning, Gibbs walked past the guard on Tim's room and then five seconds later, had Agent Antone Levine pressed against the wall.

"Where is McGee?" he asked.

Agent Levine had only been at NCIS for about three months. This was supposed to be a soft assignment, a way for him to get his feet wet. He hadn't expected being assaulted by a fellow agent. All he could do was gape like a fish.

"Where... is... McGee?" Gibbs repeated deliberately.

"I-Isn't he in his room?" Levine asked tremulously.

"Obviously not. Otherwise, I wouldn't be asking, now would I, Agent Levine?"

"I guess not, Agent Gibbs."

"When was the last time you even looked into the room?"

"Uh... I'm not sure." Levine gulped. Being slammed against a wall was not the best method for getting him to think clearly. "He... I think he walked by around one to go see his s-sister."

"Did he ever come back?"

"Uh... no. He didn't. At least, I don't remember him coming back."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and released him. He stalked down to the ICU, but Sarah was sleeping fitfully with not a Tim in sight. Now, slightly concerned as well as angry, he went back to Tim's room. Levine stood at his approach, his eyes full of fear. Gibbs chose not to do anything to him... yet. Instead, he went back into Tim's room and looked around. His eyes fell on a small notepad beside the bed. He picked it up and read:

_Hey, guys,_

_I know you'll probably worry about me being gone from the hospital, but I'm fine. I just need to figure a few things out. Abby really made me think, and I realized that I can't get the answers I need in here. I need to be in a place a little less threatening, more meaningful. I'll check in later, but I couldn't tell anyone about it because no one would have let me leave. Don't worry about me... and please don't kill me for walking out._

_Tim_

_P.S. Abby, at least I know my name now._

When he finished, he didn't know whether to be relieved or infuriated. It was so like McGee to just go off because he felt that he needed to. Never mind that he had taken the time to at least tell them he hadn't been hauled off and killed by another group of assassins. He had blissfully passed by the fact that he _needed_ the guard in the first place. He sighed and left the room again.

"I screwed up, didn't I, Agent Gibbs," Levine suggested.

"Yeah, you screwed up. Hopefully, McGee's life does not depend on your incompetence."

Levine winced.

Gibbs just glared at him and pulled out his cell. The phone rang and rang, but there was no answer. _Where would McGee go? _Gibbs thought only for a few seconds and knew exactly where Tim would go for answers. NCIS.

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Tim paused only once to take in the entire scope of what he'd been doing. It was too overwhelming; so he knelt on the floor and continued to examine the piece of paper that had come into his hands this time. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if he was finally losing it completely and permanently. Maybe, in spite of his effort to ground himself, he had merely spurred his mind to break more quickly.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," he whispered, a litany which had served him well on the streets.

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When he arrived at the building, Gibbs immediately found that Tim _had_ been there. His bag was missing and his desk was in disarray... as was his own desk as well as Tony's and Ziva's. However, Tim was no longer there. Gibbs went down to the entrance of the Navy Yard and talked to the guard on duty.

"Did you sign anyone in this morning?"

The guard smiled cynically, in no way the worse for wear after an eight hour shift. "I've signed quite a few people in this morning, Agent Gibbs, including yourself."

"This would have been early in the morning, say between 0100 and 0300 hours."

To his surprise, the guard didn't have to check the book. "Yes, sir. I signed in an extremely-damp Agent McGee. He'd been walking in the rain from somewhere."

"Did you sign him out as well?"

"Yes, about an hour and a half later. He was driving that time."

"Thanks." Gibbs headed to Tim's apartment quickly, an indescribable anxiety gripping him. He couldn't explain it, but he always went with his gut and his gut was telling him to hurry.

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There was a sudden pounding on his door and Tim looked up in surprise; then, he looked in even more surprise at his window. When had the sun decided to rise? When had been the last time he'd seen it? He was so distracted by the amazing occurrence that was sunlight that he forgot about the door. Only when the pounding began again did he finally stand and limp over to it, massaging his cramping legs. What time was it?

He unlocked the door and was thrown backwards by the sudden explosion of force as the person on the other side turned the knob and pushed the door open.


	47. Are You Out of Your Mind?

**Chapter 46: Are You Out Of Your Mind?**

Tim, for a brief and all-together frightening moment, felt his muscles automatically bunch up in anticipation of attacking whoever was there.

"McGee, are you out of your _mind_?"

The mental effort involved in cancelling the attack and putting himself on the defensive was so immense that Tim barely even acknowledged Gibbs' presence in his apartment.

"Are you going to answer me?"

"I'm not sure, Boss."

"About what?"

"Both questions," Tim said as he forced his body to relax. Suddenly, he remembered what his apartment looked like. It was something out of John Nash's worst episode. "Um, I promise, Boss, this isn't as bad as it looks."

"What isn't, McGee?" Gibbs said, still angry beyond belief, and still, strangely, worried. "That you decided to slip unnoticed out of the hospital, that you invaded not only _my_ files, but Tony's and Ziva's as well or that your apartment currently looks like you're paying homage to that math guy?"

"John Nash," Tim said, unable to resist giving the name. "I meant my apartment. I left a note!"

"What about NCIS?"

Tim had the grace to be embarrassed. "I needed it," he said simply.

"Okay, then explain all this to me."

Tim flushed. It was embarrassing enough to be confronted when he hadn't quite figured out what he was doing in the first place, but to have to try and explain all this to his boss was much, much worse.

Gibbs took the opportunity while Tim was fidgeting to look more closely at the chaos and noticed that it wasn't chaos at all. It was some sort of time line. Tim had turned his apartment into a visual representation of his two lives. He noticed the pictures, the files, and a few typewritten pages all taped to various locations, from his bookshelves to the floor. He also had a picture of a brain interspersed throughout the time line.

"I was trying to figure myself out," Tim finally said.

"Why?"

Gibbs was taken by surprise by the sudden tears pricking Tim's eyes. Even though he quickly blinked them away, they had been there.

"I've had too many moments of confusion, times when I can't decide which part of me is going to... have control."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that sometimes Thom's memories are stronger than mine. I just... I have to figure out who I'm going to be."

"I thought that was already decided."

"I... I thought it was, too. It's not that easy, though, Boss." And with that, Tim knelt on the floor again and bent over another sheet of paper. Gibbs watched him, and just when he had decided that Tim was cracked, Tim stood up again with the paper and taped it to the wall. "See this?" he asked. "Every place there's more than one page, means that there's a conflicting memory. I... I _have_ to get it straight. I have to set it all straight. It needs to be straight in my mind so that I can keep going."

"McGee?" Gibbs asked, deciding that at the very least, Tim was on the verge of cracking.

Tim turned to him briefly and he saw the fear that rose out of the depths. "Don't you see, Boss? I can't stop. I left the hospital. I _walked_ to NCIS. I...I invaded your personal space. I brought everything back here. I _can't_ stop until everything is clear. I have to make sure it all fits."

"Why, McGee?" Gibbs asked as Tim taped yet another piece of paper to one of his shelves. "Why does it all have to fit?"

"I'm fighting," he said and then whispered something under his breath.

"What?"

"'Under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody but unbowed,'" he said again, louder.

"Is that your mantra or something?"

"I told Sarah that she needed to try, and I'm trying, too... but I'm afraid I _can't_, Boss. I'm afraid that I can't go back and I can't go forward and I can't stay still. I have to keep moving, but I'm afraid that I'm going nowhere and that..."

Gibbs finally grabbed Tim by the shoulders to stop him from moving. He shook him a little. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am, Boss. I'm afraid. I'm afraid at every moment. I'm afraid of everything, of living, of dying, of losing, of having too much. I'm afraid." When Tim resorted to lists, it made his words seem all the more hysterical.

"It's okay to be afraid, McGee. It's not okay to let it rule your life."

The tears pricked his eyes again. "'I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.'"

Finally, Gibbs recognized the poem. "Invictus?"

Tim nodded and then for the first time, he voiced his most pressing fear; it wasn't the worst, but it was the one currently most on his mind. "What if Sarah dies? I won't have anyone else."

"You'll always have someone else, McGee."

"No, not like Sarah. She understands, really understands."

"Do we _need_ to understand you to be a part of your life, McGee?"

"No... but how do I explain the unexplainable? People ask me questions and I can't decide how to answer. I... I..." He tore out of Gibbs' grip and picked up another piece of paper. "I have to finish."

Gibbs watched as Tim took another sheet of paper. He recognized it as part of Abby's research into Tim's fake life. He shook his head. This had to stop. No mollycoddling this time. He began to walk around the apartment, tearing down the pieces of Tim's life. As he did so, he crumpled them up and tossed them on the floor. At first, Tim didn't notice, but as he turned around, he saw all his hard work being destroyed and Gibbs watched as a vicious look flashed through his eyes and then, the expression of betrayal he'd expected settled on his face.

"No! Stop! I _need_ this!" Gibbs ignored his plea and continued to take apart Tim's life. "NO!" Tim shouted and actually threw himself at Gibbs to stop him; however, it wasn't for nothing that Gibbs was a Marine. As Tim tried to attack him, Gibbs grabbed him and flung him onto the floor. It was no mean feat and he felt the strain although he'd never admit it.

"Look at what you're doing to yourself, McGee!" Gibbs shouted at him. "You're not helping yourself. You're tearing yourself apart and you need to stop it!"

Gibbs held Tim down as he struggled against his hands.

"Your life is not just these individual events! It's what _you_ choose to make it. Are you going to let yourself become defined by each of these little pieces and forget the whole?"

Tim didn't answer; he just stared at Gibbs with his haunted eyes.

"You are _not_ just the memories of Thom and the memories that you made. What is that stupid term someone made up for the whole being greater than the sum of its parts?"

Tim still didn't answer.

"I asked you a question, McGee!"

"S-Synergy..." he whispered.

Gibbs released one hand and flung it around the apartment, indicating all the paper that still remained. "All this is _not_ who you are, McGee. It's just stuff. It's just memories. It's not what defines you."

Something like sanity, but not quite it, took a hesitant place in Tim's eyes which again filled with tears. "Then, what does?"

Gibbs thumped Tim's chest and then flicked his head. "Those are what define you, McGee. Memories are important. I know that. They change us, but they don't _define_ us. Look at Ziva. She has terrible memories."

"Yes," Tim whispered. "She killed Ari."

Briefly, Gibbs allowed himself the luxury of surprise. No one else was supposed to know that.

"Yes, she did. There are other things in her life that she could have allowed to make her into something like her brother. She didn't."

"We _are_ our memories, Boss."

"No, McGee. For all your brains, you have that wrong. We _make_ our memories. They don't make us."

"I... Who am I, Boss?" Tim asked, the tears finally breaking free of the barriers he'd placed around them.

Gibbs released Tim's arms and pulled him to his feet. "You're Timothy McGee," he said, "a good agent, a good man, someone who has faced more trauma in the last few days than anyone I know and come through it. That's who I see in front of me, but _who_ you are has to come from in here." He flicked Tim's chest again. "Now, I'm going to help you clean this junk up and then you're going back to the hospital." Gibbs turned away and began to take down more paper. He looked back once and saw that Tim hadn't moved. He was still standing in the same place, but with his hands cradling his head. He walked by him toward the garbage can and paused briefly to squeeze Tim's shoulder. "Don't let the past take over, McGee. That's more dangerous than a loaded gun at your head."

Finally, Tim nodded and started to help. They cleaned in silence and the job was finished quickly. Every so often, Gibbs glanced over at Tim, but he couldn't tell what he was thinking. After Tim's apartment had been returned to its former state, Tim wandered over to the typewriter and lightly ran his hands over it. Gibbs watched in silence as he moved around the room, stopping at intervals to pull a record off the shelf or leaf through a book. Then, Tim disappeared into his bedroom and returned a few minutes later in different clothes. He walked by Gibbs to the kitchen and began to scrub at the old coffee spill.

"What are you doing, McGee?"

"Cleaning. The last time I was here my coffee pot boiled over..." he paused in his cleaning and looked at Gibbs. "That was the day that I lost an hour; I was late, remember? I'd had a dream the night before which must have been... it was about Thom. Then, I lost an hour and I didn't have time to clean up the coffee when it boiled over. It's funny how long ago that seems." He turned back to the counter and continued to scrub. "It was the beginning of the end."

"Not the end, McGee."

Tim didn't turn around as he continued to clean up his counter. "It was the end of something. You can't pretend that things aren't different now, Boss."

"Different but not over."

"It all comes to the same thing doesn't it? The end of one thing, the beginning of another."

"It's all in how you look at it."

Tim appeared to get frustrated with the coffee stains and threw the rag into the sink. "I'm not getting anywhere with that." He laughed. "That's kind of a constant refrain for me lately."

"Maybe you need a new one."

Tim stared at the coffee stain on his counter. "Maybe. Can't I just stay here?"

"No, you can't. There are things you need to do."

Tim took a deep breath. "Liz is going to visit again, today. I was going to introduce her and Sarah."

"That's something to do."

"Yes." Taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly, Tim turned around to face Gibbs. "Boss?"

"What, McGee?"

"Don't tell anyone what I did. Please."

Gibbs looked at him, weighing the value of putting Tim through the humiliation of letting people see his slip and the possibility of a relapse if no one knew what had happened.

"Please, Boss. I'm close enough to crazy in people's books as it is."

Gibbs just stared and then said, "For now."

Tim nodded and followed him out of the apartment.

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Liz took a deep breath and stepped into Tim's room... only to find it empty. It was not what she'd expected and the surprise made her sink onto the bed in confusion.

"He's having an MRI, a little behind schedule," said a voice behind her.

Liz stood and turned around quickly and saw one of the nurses. "Oh, how long will that take?"

"Not much longer. He would have been done by now, but he took an unapproved jaunt early this morning."

"Unapproved?"

"Let's just say that Agent McGee is not especially excited about being in the hospital still." The nurse smiled. "You can wait for him here if you like. He'll be in a gown when he gets back, but I suppose that you've seen him worse off."

"I suppose." Liz sounded uncertain, even to herself.

"Don't worry. He'll be back soon." The nurse smiled kindly and left the room.

Liz fidgeted, but stayed where she was. It wasn't Tim's fault that she was so uncomfortable. She hadn't called her parents back even though a part of her really wanted to take back all the shouting. Some things had to stand as they were for awhile. Cassie had agreed with her, but then, Cassie was always after Liz to act more "normal" as she described it. It wasn't right for a teenager to be so passive and have such a good relationship with her parents. The teenage years were _made_ for rebellion. Liz ran her fingers nervously over the hospital sheets, rubbing them between her first and second fingers and then smoothed out the crease she'd formed with her palm. Over and over again while she waited.

"Liz?"

She looked up, startled, and saw Tim looking equally startled and a little embarrassed.

"Sorry, Tim, I didn't know you would be..." she trailed off as inappropriate words flashed through her mind... _almost naked? wearing a dress?_

"I won't be for long. Just give me a moment." He scooted by her into the bathroom. In a couple of minutes he was back out, fully clothed and looking much more comfortable. He walked over and sat by her on the bed.

For a few seconds, Liz just kept looking at the sheets. Then, she said, "I yelled at my parents last night."

"Why?" Tim asked although he thought he knew.

"Because of what they did... to you."

"I'm sorry, Liz. I shouldn't have said anything."

Liz began to rub the sheets between her fingers again. "I've never yelled at my parents before."

"Neither have I. It's a scary thing, isn't it?"

"Very." Liz hunched her shoulders in a very familiar way, and Tim found himself putting an arm around her shoulders. Automatically, she leaned against him and sighed.

"It doesn't make you a bad daughter, Liz," he said, quietly reassuring her. When comparing Liz and Sarah, it amazed him that he had ever believed that Sarah was only twenty. There was an innocence about Liz that Sarah had always lacked, that _he_ had always lacked.

"Thanks, Tim," Liz breathed when she noticed that Tim wasn't trying to say anything more, that he was just sitting there, letting her think. "I always wanted a brother. I remember... a long time ago... I used to ask my parents for an older brother, not understanding the essential requirements of such an arrangement. I used to put it on my Christmas lists and, and birthday presents. ...and they _never_, not once, mentioned that I already _had_ an older brother. I feel like they lied to me."

"Liz, it's okay. I wasn't really big brother material after awhile anyway."

She pushed away from him. "But you wouldn't have been _in_ this position at all, if they hadn't been afraid of you."

Tim turned her so that she faced him directly. "Liz, I can't tell you how much I regret that I'm only getting to know you now when things are so crazy, that I didn't get a chance to see you grow up, that I didn't get a chance to be an annoying older brother." He looked her straight in the eyes, the haunted look still there, but the firm look he gave her held her attention. "But I have had so many opportunities that I would _never_ have had if I didn't go through all that. These last two weeks have been the hardest days of my life... of _both_ my lives, but there are people I would never have met, experiences I would never have had, if I hadn't been rejected by your parents. It's not that it was a fair trade. If I had my choice, I don't know if I could knowingly give you up, but I can't give it all up now... and you can't give up your family now, angry as you may be at this moment." He smiled.

"How can you be so... reasonable?"

Tim laughed sadly. "I don't have any other choice, Liz. If I let myself regret all of it, I can't handle what happened. I have to accept what happened. Now, would you be willing to do something for me?"

"What's that?"

"Meet Sarah?"

"Oh." Liz felt herself go cold. "I-I mean, Tim, it's just that... you _said _that you forgave her and that she's your sister, but..."

"Liz, I know this is hard. You've been hit with a lot to deal with in a very short time, but you and Sarah are the only family I have. I'm still trying to figure all this out, but I can't just have two separate families. Please, at least meet her. That's all I'm asking now."

Liz stood and Tim rose with her. She looked at him and saw how much the two of them had lost, even when they hadn't been aware that something was missing. This was such a simple thing he was asking of her.

She nodded. "I will. Does Sarah know already?"

"No, not yet. I haven't had the chance to tell her."

"Tell her first. No one should have a new relation sprung on them without warning." She smiled nervously.

"Okay. Wait here and I'll go."

Liz sat down and nervously began to fiddle with the sheets again, so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she never even heard the alert that blared over the speakers.

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Tim approached the ICU, fearfully. He'd heard the code blue called to the ICU and deep in his heart he was afraid that it was Sarah. He took one step inside, saw doctors and nurses backing away from Sarah's bed, heard the flatline of the heart monitor and something inside him exploded. Unless you looked in his eyes, there was no external evidence of the raging torrent surging in his brain. He felt like he was on fire and freezing at the same moment. A doctor said something about him staying back, but in spite of, or maybe because of, the piercing sound of the heart monitor, he couldn't really hear the words. All he felt was someone keeping him from his sister. He stopped walking long enough to pierce the doctor with his gaze; then, he looked down at the hand on his arm. Whatever the doctor saw in his eyes was enough to cause him to falter and step back. Tim approached the bed.

Sarah looked like she was sleeping. Her skin was pasty white and she wasn't moving; he held back a sob as he said in his mind, _not even a rise and fall of her chest_. But she could have been sleeping. Tim stared down at her for what seemed an eternity. He couldn't decide if he wanted to scream in rage and pain or sob out the depth of his grief. He didn't notice but his breath was coming in loud ragged gasps. If he didn't do something, he felt like he would spontaneously combust and dissolve into a pile of repressed emotion.

Then, he saw a hand, Sarah's hand, _or was it someone else's_, dangling limply over the edge of the bed. Small and delicate, it made no independent movement. Suddenly, he felt much smaller, much younger, as he reached out for the hand and cradled it in his own.

"No..." he gasped out. "No... Sarah... no..."

Someone touched his shoulder. It didn't matter. There was only one person who mattered in this room and she was gone.

"You promised... you promised me..."

The hand, more insistent this time, tried to make him come away. There were words as well, but he might as well have been a stone for as much as he acknowledged them.

"You lied... you _lied!_ Suddenly, Tim's voice became a shriek. He dropped Sarah's hand and turned blindly. He didn't recognize a single face among the doctors and nurses. There was someone, not a doctor or nurse, the source of the hand, but he didn't make any connection. He pushed through the group and ran out the door, not knowing his destination, only knowing that he had to run away from the image he kept seeing. He had to run and run and run and get away from it.

All the while, there was a litany, running through his mind faster than his legs carried him: _You lied! You lied!_


	48. What Else Matters?

**Chapter 47: What Else Matters?**

Abby was walking toward the ICU when Tim hurtled past her. She barely had time to register his identity before Gibbs came out, a look of rage on his face as he shouted into his cell phone at someone.

"What were you _thinking_?" he shouted at the unlucky recepient. "You should have cleared it with me first! Are you out of your _mind_?!" Then, he looked up at Abby who was standing frozen in shock as she saw a covered body being wheeled out of the room ahead of her. "Go after McGee. He'll need you. When you get him calmed down, bring him to NCIS, not back here, understand?"

She saw that this was not a time for discussion or comprehension. Instead, she turned and ran in the direction Tim had taken.

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Tim finally stopped running and looked around. He was no longer in the hospital. Instead, he was in a park, by a large fountain. The rushing water was not enough to deafen the sounds he could still hear in his mind, but physical exhaustion had finally reconnected him with reality.

"Tim?" Abby had watched as Tim had slowed down when he got to the park and then stopped and stared at the fountain. He was still breathing heavily, but she didn't think he'd start running again, thank goodness. She'd almost lost him twice and was glad that she wasn't wearing platforms today. He would have left her in the dust... he almost had anyway.

He didn't turn around at the sound of her voice, but she saw him stiffen. "I ran."

"I know, Tim. I almost couldn't keep up with you."

He was still panting. "I'm tired."

"Good. Don't start running again, because I'm tired, too." She took a couple of steps toward him. He didn't move.

"I left Liz behind."

"Do you want me to call the hospital and have them talk to her?"

"Yes, that would be nice." Tim still hadn't turned around, and his voice was so polite that it scared Abby. She wished she could see his face, but she didn't want to rush this. Instead, she pulled out her cell and phoned the hospital, apprising them of the situation, even though she didn't quite understand it herself.

"Someone's going to go and talk to her."

"Good. Thanks."

"Tim?"

"She's dead, Abby. Yesterday, she was alive. I left. I came back and she was dead."

Abby covered her own shock and sorrow. She had figured it would take something like this to push Tim so far, but she hadn't really believed it until she heard him say the words.

"Oh, Tim, I'm so sorry." She took another step toward him, within an arm's length. He still hadn't moved.

"She should have been better, but she wasn't. She wavered on the line. She told me she'd try."

"I'm sure she _did_, Tim."

"No. She didn't. If Sarah died, it was a conscious decision." Now, Abby finally heard an emotion. It was anger, but she had seen enough mourning to know how to deal with the extreme emotions death inspired in some people.

"This was really hard for her."

"It was hard for me, too."

"Yes, I know, but we're talking about Sarah."

"She said she'd try. She _lied_."

"No, she didn't lie. She never said that she would succeed. She just said that she would try, right?" Abby reached tentatively out to touch his arm.

"She's dead. What else matters?"

"Lots of things matter, Tim."

"She could have been asleep." Tim didn't flinch or react in any way when Abby finally touched him. "Abby?"

"Yes, Tim?"

"Could you do something for me?" The politeness was back.

"Anything that is in my power, Tim."

"Would you kill me?"

"No." The word was out before she could even think of how to temporize.

"You've told me before that you could kill me without leaving any forensic evidence."

"Yes, Tim, I do have the ability to do that, but I can't kill you."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't kill someone I love."

"Even if it was a way of putting them out of their misery?"

"Not even then."

"Okay." Tim never moved. He wasn't accusing; he just seemed to be saying the words.

"Is there anything else, Tim?" Abby asked. Her grip on his arm tightened.

"Yes. There is."

"What, Tim?"

Slowly, ever so slowly, Tim finally turned around to face her, grief in every line of his face, swallowing up his normally-expressive eyes, leaving them as dull and still as a stagnant pond.

"Would you give me hug?"

"Any time."

Abby pulled him to her and hugged him tightly. For a minute or two, he didn't react still, but then, the floodgates opened and he began to sob, big fat tears. Abby could feel them soaking her shirt. His arms flew around her and he clung to her as if she was his grip on life.

"I... can't... keep losing people," he gasped through his tears. "Too... many..."

"You won't, Tim," Abby crooned.

"I've lost too many..." Tim sobbed. "My parents... twice... myself... now Sarah... twice. I _can't_ take it again."

"You haven't lost yourself, Tim."

"I have. How long before I lose you?" His voice was muffled by the fabric of her shirt, but she heard every word. If it were possible, she hugged him even closer.

"You won't lose me, Tim."

"Maybe someday..."

"Never. Not ever. You'll always have me."

"You can't promise that, Abby. No one can promise that."

Abby disentangled their arms and led Tim to a nearby bench. She pushed him down onto it and sat next to him, never letting him go.

"I promise, Tim. No matter what. You'll always have me." Tim was still crying. "Are you ready?"

"Can we stay here for awhile?"

"Of course. As long as you need to... provided of course that it doesn't involve camping out on the bench tonight."

Tim's laugh was choked with tears. "No... I've had enough of benches." Then, he sobered. "Why, Abby? Why, now? _Why?_"

Abby sighed, a few tears coming to her own eyes. "I don't know, Tim. I wish I did." She pulled him closer to her and wrapped her other arm around his waist. He reciprocated and leaned his head on hers. The tears stopped after awhile. There's only so long that a person can cry, but the shuddering breaths, the trembling, continued.

It took an hour before Tim made the suggestion that they leave the park. The politeness wasn't back, but there was a deliberate emptiness that told Abby he was fragile at best. It made her wonder if this is how Thom had reacted to shocks. What had he been like when his parents died? Had this emptiness put off the Lukes and kept them from wanting to adopt him? She kept an arm around his waist as they stood together.

"Gibbs said that they needed you at NCIS."

"What for?"

"He didn't say, but he did intimate that it was fairly important. Besides, you don't really want to go back to the hospital do you?"

"No... but I should... I feel... I shouldn't have left Liz there alone."

"Don't worry. I told you that there was someone talking to her."

"I know, but I shouldn't just abandon her like that."

"You're not abandoning her. Lee told me that they hit it off pretty well. She'll probably stop by or else Liz will call her herself. We need to go to NCIS, okay?"

"Okay." Even though she had no intention of letting him go, Tim latched onto her and held her tight. Abby was surprised at how much she enjoyed the feeling of being joined at the hip with Tim. Normally, it made her edgy because of Tim's proclivity to serious relationships, but not this time. She didn't mind it at all. She hailed a taxi and they sat close together all the way to NCIS.


	49. And Now?

**Chapter 48: And Now?**

"I'm sorry that it happened that way, Jethro, but I had no choice," Jenny said firmly.

"No choice? Have you not been _listening_ to me, Jen? This is the very thing that could have driven him over the edge and you decided that you didn't have a choice?!" He stalked to the elevator. "You should have seen his face."

Jenny followed him and stopped him before he could push the button. "I don't have to. I've seen yours. I really _am_ sorry for what McGee has gone through."

"Do you know how trite that sounds?"

"Yes, I do," she replied with some heat. "However, it doesn't mean that the words have no sincerity behind them. I _am_ sorry, and as soon as McGee gets here, I will explain it all to him."

"You do that. Can't you take one of my team's emotions into consideration _before_ you make a decision for once?"

"_That_ was a low blow, Jethro, and completely unwarranted. I have admitted that I made considerable errors in the La Grenouille operation, but Tony knew exactly what he was getting into from the beginning. None of us could have predicted how that would end up."

"You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better."

"It doesn't. The truth rarely does, which is why it's not helping _you_ now."

Whatever Gibbs was about to retort was cut off when the elevator doors opened below them and let Tim and Abby into the bullpen. Tim looked haggard and aged with grief. Even Jenny was taken aback by how badly he'd been affected by Sarah's death.

"Agent McGee!" she called down.

He looked up.

"Come with me, please."

He didn't answer, but he and Abby shifted their course to the stairs. She thought briefly about telling Abby to wait, but when she saw how much he was leaning on her, physically and emotionally, she knew he'd be better off having Abby there. She led the couple to a room neither of them had ever noticed before. It looked like a supply closet, but when she took a swipe card out of her pocket and passed it through the card reader mounted on the wall, they knew that it wasn't. Jenny pushed open the door and beckoned them to enter ahead of her. While they went in, confused, she met Gibbs' eyes. The accusing stare was still there. It had taken weeks before that accusation had faded after Tony's undercover op had finally been concluded. She wondered how long it would take this time.

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Tim had unconsciously expected to see some sort of dark windowless space; thus, he was surprised when he found himself in a sunny room. To call what he felt when he saw the occupant of that room surprise would be a waste of a perfect opportunity to use shell shocked or stupefied.

He hardly dared give voice to the name on his lips. "S-Sarah?"

From a hospital bed, looking weak but better than she'd been since the shooting, Sarah opened her eyes and locked gazes with Tim. Abby began to smile right away, but she felt Tim's legs buckle beneath him and her smile slipped.

"Help!" she said quickly. Gibbs was beside her in an instant, lowering Tim to the floor, forcing his head between his knees.

Sarah sat up quickly and then winced and leaned back, sucking air sharply through her teeth. Abby looked up and reluctantly left Tim's side, feeling torn between the two McGees in the room.

"Are-are you really there?" she asked.

Sarah had closed her eyes at the pain of her injudicious movement but smiled and opened them again.

"Abby, are you saying that you believe in ghosts?"

"I'm ready to start if you say you are."

"I'm not. I'm pretty sure a ghost would not be confined to a hospital bed." She smiled again, but then looked sad when she caught a glimpse of Tim, still mostly senseless on the floor. "Is he alright?"

"He saw you die, Sarah. I don't understand."

Tears sprang to her eyes. "Oh, no. He wasn't supposed to be there." She looked beyond Gibbs and Tim and glared at Jenny. "You said he would just be told later on and then brought here. How did he see me die?"

"I don't know, Sarah. He was with Liz, and he was supposed to have had a physical today in addition to the MRI. He should have been completely occupied.

Gibbs glanced up briefly. "He was going to introduce Liz to you, I think. He was probably coming down to tell you."

Sarah brought her hands to her face. "He was probably so excited, too. Can't _anything_ go right for him?"

"Maybe now it can," Gibbs said. Then, he held Tim upright as he jerked back to consciousness as suddenly as he'd lost it. He tried to stand and seemed confused when he couldn't immediately leap to his feet. His face was completely white and he wouldn't look up. They could all tell that he was afraid to see Sarah gone or dead.

"I'm really here, Tim," Sarah whispered.

Tim still didn't look up. "No, I saw... I saw you dead. You weren't breathing; your-your heart..."

"Look at me, Tim."

Tim just shook his head. Abby came over and crouched in front of him.

"Do you trust me, Tim?"

Tim looked up just enough to meet her gaze.

"Yes, I do."

"She's there. Sarah is alive. Look at her."

She held out her hand, looking past Tim to Gibbs who nodded. Tim hesitated and then took her hand. She hauled on it while Gibbs lifted him from behind. Tim staggered a little but remained upright. He slowly forced his head up and met Sarah's gaze. Then, he took one small step toward her and stopped.

"I told you I'd try, Tim. I found a reason," Sarah said, encouragingly reaching out her hand toward him.

In two steps, he was by the bed. He didn't hug her as he had before, mindful of her injuries, but he sank onto a nearby chair, holding her hand, and weeping again.

"You're alive. You're alive."

"I'm alive, and so are you."

Tim's head sank onto her arm as he continued to cry. Sarah put her other hand on his head and patted his hair. Jenny waited for him to calm down and was about to speak when Ducky walked up.

"I didn't realize there was a meeting going on in here. I could wait," he said.

"No, Ducky. Please, come in," she said. As he walked by her, she grabbed his arm and said quietly, "Check out Tim as well."

He raised an eyebrow but nodded.

"Well, I'm certainly enjoying the continuing opportunity to treat people who are still breathing," he said jovially as he approached the bed. He intentionally checked out Sarah first, although he had checked her upon her arrival. When he finished his examination, he looked at Sarah and then over to Jenny. "Dr. Adams was right, I believe. The improvement just in the last two hours is remarkable. Are you feeling better, my dear?"

"Much. I'm still tired and it's harder to breathe than I'd like, but... it's different than it was."

Ducky nodded. "I thought as much. It's good to have some overly-conscientious doctors around." He straightened and then walked over to Tim. "Well, I might as well examine you as well, Timothy. I am loathe to give up a living patient."

Tim shrugged and submitted to Ducky's ministrations docilely. Ducky let out a long low whistle.

"What happened here?" he asked in surprise.

Tim wasn't going to answer, but he noticed that no one else was making any effort to do so either. He settled for looking at Sarah's hand and mumbling, "I thought she was dead."

"Say no more. Timothy, you've had so many shocks in the last few days that I'm amazed you're as coherent as you are. I think you'd better stay seated for awhile longer. If you feel light-headed or nauseous, tell one of us, but you seem to have rallied quite well."

Tim laughed, but it came out more as a hacking caw than an expression of amusement. "What happened?" he asked, still not looking at anyone. "How could you let me think that...?" he trailed off, not able to finish the question.

"That was my doing, Agent McGee," Jenny said, coming in the room completely and closing the door behind her. Tim's head jerked up and he stared at her, understanding as well as anger apparent in his eyes. "You have every right to be angry with me, McGee, but I hope you will agree that it was done for a good cause, once you understand what was at stake."

"What _was_ at stake?" he asked, only a glimmer of anger in the words, but he could have given Gibbs a run for his money when it came to the level of betrayal and accusation reflected in his eyes.

"Sarah," she said simply.

"Sarah?"

"Are you ready for the whole story or would you prefer the abbreviated version?"

"Are you really asking me?"

Jenny walked over to the other side of the bed and sat down. "Yes. You deserve to know the details if you so choose, but, as Ducky pointed out, you have also been through quite a bit recently and you can spare yourself the details if you choose. So?"

Tim swallowed and considered. _Do I really want to know why I was put through that again?_ "I've had too many problems already by not knowing the whole story. Tell me everything."

"Alright." Jenny started to open her mouth.

"Wait."

"What?"

"Do Ziva and Tony know?" When Jenny shook her head, he said, "They need to know, too. They deserve to know... after all they did... for Sarah, for me."

Jenny nodded. "Gibbs, would you be so good?"

Gibbs was already out the door. Two minutes later, Tony got to the door first and stopped dead in his tracks, blocking the doorway. He and Ziva both knew about this room. After the La Grenouille op, Ziva had managed to drag an injured Tony back to headquarters, knowing that he couldn't be treated in a hospital. Jenny had taken him here and he'd stayed for about a week while he recovered. Coming back here was hard, but the sight of someone he'd been told had died made up for it.

"Sarah!" he said, a sudden smile erasing his uncommonly solemn expression from moments before. Then, he seemed to feel that he wasn't living up to his reputation. "You know, this is like that Arnold Schwarzenegger movie."

He was met by blank stares.

"Which one, Tony?" Abby asked. She could see that his mind was on Sarah lying, alive, not on an appropriate movie quote. "Aren't they all the same?"

"_Eraser_, of course. There's that line he says when he saves... some guy. 'Don't move, you're dead.'"

"Tony, you are blocking the door, and if you don't move, you _will_ be dead." Ziva shoved him further into the room and smiled in relief when she saw Sarah. Then, she turned to Jenny. "Why were we told that Sarah was dead?"

"I was just about to explain that. Gibbs, if you wouldn't mind being the doorman?"

"Not at all, Director," he said coldly.

"Thank you," she said, not bothering to acknowledge his tone. She waited while Tony and Ziva took seats, and suppressed a knowing smile when they tried not to sneak surreptitious looks at Sarah, making sure she was really alive. Abby had moved over by Tim and sat on his lap, with the resulting display of Tim still holding Sarah's hand tightly and his right arm placed securely around Abby's waist. He didn't appear to be the least bit uncomfortable. In fact, he seemed to be relieved at the close contact from both women. She supposed it was her own fault in a way.

She sighed inwardly and began. "Are you ready now?" she asked, really speaking only to Tim. He was the one who had been worst affected by this case and it was his feelings she was worried about, regardless of what Gibbs thought of her methods.

Tim nodded.

"Good. What you need to know first of all is that after a couple days to mull everything over, the FBI and CIA directors both decided to pursue this case in a public court of law, rather than deal with Blaser as they'd like to, privately and permanently."

"Why aren't they going that route?" Tony asked.

"PR reasons. There's so much bad press about these federal agencies that they can't afford to take chances."

"What chances?" Ziva asked. "They kill him and it's over."

"Blaser, while undoubtably certifiable, has made many influential friends over the years through philanthropic work and through donations to a great many political campaigns. Any attempt to quietly take care of things would almost certainly blow up in our collective faces, and they do not wish to deal with the inevitable backlash. Blaser was officially booked and transferred to federal custody this morning."

"He's not here?" Tony asked, standing up angrily.

"No. He's not, Tony. That was part of the arrangement we made with the FBI. They would take custody."

"And you just handed him over?"

"Yes, not without certain assurances, but yes, I 'just handed him over.' He is now enjoying the luxuries of solitary confinement and all the other glories of the US penal system. However, that puts the witnesses of his activities at greater risk, specifically, Gage and Sarah."

"Why?" Abby asked.

"Because, while he has the right to a speedy trial, he can easily get it extended long enough to eliminate the evidence against him. Already, Warrington committed suicide yesterday, as did one of the men we arrested at the training facility."

"What?" Ziva asked. "How was that allowed?"

"The same way that McGee was nearly able to take a cyanide pill before. No one thought to look for it."

"Cyanide?"

"For Warrington, yes, but for the other, it was more old-fashioned."

"What, he hung himself with bedsheets?"

"Exactly, Tony."

Tony gulped at his correct guess.

"Now, Gage has already been placed in the Witness Protection Program. His wound was not overly serious, luckily, and he has been more than forthcoming with information... as have the other two men we took. They, like Gage, are merely employees. They don't care about anything beyond their next paycheck. However, Gage warned us that there were those within the organization who believe in the cause as much as Blaser does and are willing to do _anything_ to get Blaser out. One of those things means the elimination of witnesses."

"Why are you not including McGee as one of the witnesses?" Ziva asked. "Is he not in as much danger as Sarah?"

Rather than answering directly, Jenny looked at Tim and asked, "Agent McGee, if you were asked to identify the man who was responsible for kidnaping you and holding you against your will, would you be able to?"

Tim opened his mouth to answer, but then thought of his lack of memories relating to the actual experience. "No. I couldn't. I could tell you that Tanner was involved based on my conversations with him and a vague impression of his presence in one memory, but I could'nt identify Blaser. He was never around."

"Exactly."

"But I could identify him as the one who shot Sarah. Wouldn't they worry about that?"

Here, Jenny smiled smugly. "Unfortunately for Blaser, no fewer than ten witnesses saw him with his gun, standing over Sarah, and four people saw him fire, all of whom are in this room. There is safety in numbers, but with regard to the operation itself, Blaser knows that Sarah is still alive and that she will have no compulsions about testifying to his involvement. That puts her at grave risk. It already has, in fact."

"What do you mean?"

"From the day after the shooting, Sarah was being poisoned."

Tim's grip on Sarah's hand tightened and he paled. "What? How come no one noticed?"

"Whoever did it, and we still don't know who, was careful. It was being administered gradually, causing her continued lassitude and overall weakness. Considering her injuries, few would find cause to question the difficulty in bouncing back from that."

"What about blood tests?" Abby protested. "Surely, a poison being given continuously would show up in her blood."

"We now think that all of the blood tests were faked."

"So, who was it?"

"We don't know. It could be a single ICU doctor, nurse or more than one in conjunction with someone in the medical lab. There are too many possibilities, although, I assure you, they are being investigated. We wouldn't have even known this much if it weren't for Dr. Adams' concerns."

"Why?"

"He had noticed how much Sarah perked up when her visitors came, and how drained she always was. He was the doctor who spoke to you, McGee, after you talked with Sarah. He could see that she had every will in the world to survive, but that she wasn't getting better. In fact, she was getting worse. He decided to give into his paranoia and took a blood sample. He then took it to the lab and had one of the techs he knew personally test it while he stood over her. The results bore no similarity to Sarah's previous blood tests at all, and, he saw that there was poison in her system. He came to me directly and in person."

She laughed. "In fact, he barged past Cynthia faster than Gibbs does in order to show me what he'd found. Anyway, when I found out, I knew that we couldn't risk Sarah being killed, but we also couldn't just remove her from the hospital. It would be best if the killer thought he'd succeeded."

"So you hatched this scheme to have her... die," Tim interjected, quietly.

"Yes. McGee, I can't tell you how sorry I am that you came in at that moment."

"How did you do it? I saw the heart monitor. She wasn't breathing."

"The heart monitor was fixed to show no heartbeat, and although her heart never completely stopped, the doctors did slow it considerably so that a pulse would not be readily apprarent. They also stopped her breathing for about thirty seconds, just in case the killer was on the ICU staff. You came in just as they'd finished stopping all her functions."

Tim was gripping Sarah's hand so tightly that she felt like her fingers were going to drop off, but one look at his face told her that he needed the contact. He had thought she was dead twice already. He needed time to really take all this in. He clearly hadn't as yet. Abby looked down and saw Sarah's white fingers. She unobtrusively put her hand over Tim's and massaged his fingers lightly until his grip loosened. He never even noticed, but Sarah caught Abby's eyes and mouthed a _thank you_ to her. She just smiled.

"After that, we wheeled her out of the ICU, under a sheet this time to cover up her breathing... and the fact that there was an oxygen mask over her face. It was a dangerous gamble, but Sarah agreed that it was the best way. We arranged for her transfer here and she'll be in this room until she's recovered.

"And then what?" Tim asked.

Now, Jenny completely ignored every other occupant of the room. This was going to be hard for Tim to hear and he needed to accept it right away.

"Then, she'll be placed in Witness Protection until the trial is over."

Tim just stared uncomprehendingly for a minute or two. Jenny could see the exact moment that all Witness Protection entailed hit him.

"She'll be gone."

Sarah spoke for about the first time. "Yes, Tim. I'll be gone, given a new identity. Not forever, but long enough for the trial and the conviction."

"When?"

"As soon as I can get out of this bed."

"And you'll be gone."

"Gone, but not forgotten, I hope."

His grip tightened again and slowly loosened until he was barely grasping her hand at all. Her hand lay limply on his palm.

"Never forgotten. Will I see you?" Later, he would reflect with embarrassment at how he had spoken, as if he were a child, but at the time, it was all he could do to frame coherent sentences.

"Eventually, but I don't know when."

He looked to Jenny.

"You can't visit her, and it will more than likely be at least a year before the trial is over. Then, there will be an appeal, of course. We're looking at a possibility of two years, minimum."

"Two years?"

"Yes, McGee."

He looked at Sarah once more. "That's a lot of lost time."

"Yes, Tim."

Tim closed his eyes for a long time, taking deep breaths. The thought running through his mind was that he was losing his sister for a third time, but he kept reminding himself that he wasn't really losing her. Finally, he opened his eyes again.

"But two years is a small price to pay." He smiled, a genuine smile, for the first time since he'd seen Sarah, apparently dead in the hospital. "You know where I'll be."

"I do."

"Okay."

"Agent McGee," Jenny said, signaling a return to the serious topic.

"Yes, Director?"

"You, and all of you," she now included the rest of the team, "realize that everything you've learned in this room has to stay in this room. You can't speak of Sarah except as relates to her being dead. You cannot make any attempt to find her or contact her. When it is safe, she'll be back. Until that time, she is dead to the world and to you." She stared down every occupant. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Director." The replies came from various locations in the room.

"Good. Any questions?"

Tony snorted, but Tim kept him from commenting.

"What about Liz?"

"What do you mean, McGee?" Jenny asked.

"Can I tell her or should I act as though Sarah is dead to her as well? They never met, but we have spoken about Sarah during our meetings." He hitched one shoulder. "She'll probably realize something is wrong with the story."

Jenny looked at him. She saw beyond his words to the root of the problem. She had read and reviewed every aspect of this case multiple times, and she had found something about Tim that was changed. He couldn't lie, but it was more than that. Tim had never been very good at lying. It was one of the things she actually found refreshing in her interactions with him, but now, it was something stronger. He loathed the very idea of lying to someone, probably because of all the damage that had come from the lies he'd been told.

"Bring her here. Introduce them and impress upon her the seriousness of the situation, and I have no qualms about you telling her. She seems to be quite intelligent."

Tim nodded.

"Good, now that it's settled. You can have some time if you want it. McGee, I'll need to see you in my office when you are through here."

"Yes, ma'am."

Jenny nodded and walked out, followed by Gibbs and Ducky.

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"Before you even start, Jethro, don't. I'm not in the mood."

"Start what, Jenny?" Ducky asked, not having been privy to their previous conversation.

"Nothing, Ducky, because Jethro isn't going to start."

"I wasn't, Jen. I was going to say thank you."

Jenny looked at him for a moment and then turned and walked down the hallway. Gibbs would have to keep up if he wanted to finish what he had to say.

He lengthened his stride. "Thank you for how you handled McGee."

"I know how to handle my agents, Gibbs." Even after three years with him, Jenny knew she was still too quick to see slurs in everything Gibbs said to her. It was a hard habit to break. It was even harder to be the boss to the man who trained her.

"I know you do, and what you did in there proves it beyond a doubt."

She stopped and turned around. "What are you getting at, Jethro? That I've been sloppy in the past? I know you don't always agree with how I run things. You've made that abundantly clear, but as I _am_ the director of NCIS, I will run things how I see fit. It may not always be right and it may not always be the best way, but it is _my_ way and I will always do the best I can. I don't give less than that. It's time _you_ understood it." She turned back and continued on her way.

"You're right, Director," she heard him say quietly. It was the first time that he'd used her title in private and not meant it mockingly. She paused and smiled but continued without responding, her shoulders just a touch straighter.

Gibbs saw the slight shift in her posture and smiled to himself. She'd learned all fifty rules, finally.

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"Sit down, Agent McGee," Jenny said a few hours later.

"Yes, ma'am." Tim did so, looking almost relaxed. She hadn't realized how tense he'd been. She supposed it was possible to become adjusted to anything given enough time.

"Thank you." She sat down across from him. "As director, I'm under no obligation to apologize for the successful completion of an operation."

"I know that, Director. I didn't expect an apology," Tim said, politely.

"However... as your colleague, I most certainly do."

"Ma'am?" Tim said in confusion.

"Tim, I am _so_ sorry for everything that has happened to you in the last two weeks." As he opened his mouth, she raised a hand to forestall his comment. "I know I did not bring on your seizures or create your personality, but I could have warned you about what was coming. I could have trusted you to react realistically."

"That may not be the case."

"Yes, that's true, but considering how well you have done in cases in the past, I would have done better by you to trust you to understand the nature of the operation, the importance of its success, and to trust that you would do your best. I did not, and for that I apologize. I am also sorry for the anguish that must have caused you. I didn't fully appreciate your struggles."

Tim sat in silence, trying to decide what to say. He knew some sort of response was expected, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Finally, he settled on smiling.

"I have my sister back. She is alive, and because of what you did, she will stay that way. I'll admit there's a part of me that is furious, but mostly, I'm just relieved. How could I be angry at you for saving my sister's life? I accept your apology..." he hesitated and then said, "...Jen."

She smiled as she stood to show she wasn't offended by his use of her name. "We've had some bad interactions, you and I, but I am proud to have you as one of my agents. Welcome back, Agent McGee."

"Thank you, Director Shephard." Tim smiled again and rose to his feet. It was becoming easier and easier to smile.


	50. Endings?

**Chapter 49: Endings??**

"I'm not really sure about this, Tim," Sarah said, a slight tremor in her voice. The day before had passed too quickly in the company of all the friends she'd made since the beginning of the case. It was hard to believe that in a few short weeks she'd be gone and separated from them. It was even harder to believe that she felt so strongly about that when her whole life had been filled with meetings and partings. There had been a moment of awkward silence before everyone had started talking eagerly, trying to get in all the important words before they separated. Sarah noticed that Abby was never separated from Tim, that he was always touching at least her hand, even just the fingers. It wasn't a passionate, "I can't keep my hands off you" sort of touch. It was a connection, a connection deeper than Sarah would have thought possible from Tim's descriptions of his and Abby's relationship in the past. After everyone else left, Tim had asked to sleep in the chair in the room that night, if she didn't mind. It was his way of making sure that all of this day had not been a dream, both the bad and good parts.

Now, Sarah was about to meet Tim's _real_ sister. He had begged her, not in a fall-on-his-knees way, just in the harder to resist quiet voice, making a polite request. It hadn't made her feel any better when he had said that Liz was nervous too. Heck, even _he_ was nervous, but he still wanted it to happen.

"I am. It's probably the only time you'll get to meet in... years. I just want to know that the pieces of my family come together at least once."

"I know, and I'm not exactly dreading it, but... she's your _sister_, Tim."

Tim sat down on the bed, looking down at her in a way that made her feel like his much younger sister.

"So are you. My family size has doubled," he said smiling. If nothing else, having Tim smile again was worth any amount of discomfort. There'd been so little for him to smile about lately.

She smiled back. "Okay, Tim. I won't protest anymore. Go bring her in." He stood to go and she made a final comment, "By the way, stop looking at me like that. I feel like I'm twenty."

His smile got wider. "I'll admit I'm having a hard time thinking of you as being only a year or two younger than I am."

"Get over it."

"Yes, ma'am." Tim turned and marched out, giving Sarah about thirty seconds to gather her thoughts before he returned with Liz. When she entered, _without_ Tim, Sarah stared for a few seconds in silence. The resemblance between the two of them was so obvious that she wondered how in the world they'd been able to pass her off as a sibling. She was tall, blonde, and she carried herself in the same way Tim did. She also looked so _young_. Sarah knew that she had youthful features, which allowed her to play the part of a younger person, but no one had questioned, once she had dropped the mask, that she was much older, more experienced. Sarah knew she was looking at a real twenty-year-old.

"Hi," she said, eloquently.

"Hi. I'm Liz."

"I'm Sarah. Where's Tim?"

"I think he has this idea that we need to have a few seconds to engage in female bonding before he comes in."

Sarah smiled. That sounded like Tim all right. "Well, you might as well have a seat." She gestured.

Liz smiled, a bit nervously, and sat down. She couldn't think of anything to say at first. Then, in a sudden rush of daring, she blurted out, "Do you really love Tim?"

"Yes," Sarah said immediately. "He's my brother."

"But... you're... not, really... I mean..."

"I know what you mean. You two _are_ related. I can see it just looking at you, but that doesn't mean that Tim and I can't be family as well. You're not really related to your parents, but you still consider yourself a part of that family, correct?"

"Yes, but..."

"But nothing, Liz. I'll admit that I didn't start out wanting Tim to be my brother, but I do now, and I don't want to hurt him... anymore than you do. Got that?"

Liz nodded. "Yes. I'm beginning to understand. You two are more alike than I thought at first."

Sarah furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"You both have the same look in your eyes. You've been through the same things. Tim and I are related by blood, but..." she blushed, "...you and Tim are related by spirit."

Sarah smiled, touched by the assessment. "I like the sound of that."

"Thanks."

"So, you're in college, correct?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"Sort of. I started college last year as a part of my cover, but I've found that I rather enjoy it. I may stick it out."

"Doing what?"

"English Literature."

"I'm in history myself."

"So I heard."

Having covered the important part of the conversation, they settled and began to chat like any other new acquaintances. That's how Tim found them when he came in later. They didn't notice him at first, and he stood in the doorway, smiling at the sight of his family getting along. Then, his smiled wavered when he thought about what he was about to say.

"Tim!" Liz said, just noticing him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing huge, I promise. There are some things you need to know." He stepped in the door and pulled it closed behind him. Then, he approached the two women and sat down. In quiet, calm tones, he began to explain.

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Liz sat back a little while later and asked, "When will all this happen?"

"I'm not sure," Tim said. "Whenever they decide that Sarah's recovered enough to go."

"But it's not permanent?"

"No. We don't think so. As more and more evidence is uncovered, Sarah's account will be less crucial, but until we get a conviction, she'll be in danger."

"And you won't be?"

"No. Not any more danger than I am on a regular basis," he said wryly.

Liz nodded. "So, why did you want me to meet her, if she's just going to disappear?" She turned to Sarah. "Don't get me wrong: I'm glad I did."

Sarah shook her head. "I understand."

Tim interjected. "It was selfish on my part, I'll admit. Maybe in a few years, we can have a family reunion, but until then, this is will be the only chance for all three of us to get together. I wanted to have us all here, just once."

Liz nodded. "I see." She stood up and seemed to be ready to leave, but then, she unexpectedly turned back and hugged Sarah gently. "It was nice to meet you."

"The feeling's mutual," Sarah whispered.

Tim waited by the door to escort Liz from the building again. He waved at Sarah as they left. They walked in silence until they got to the elevator.

"You were right, Tim."

"About what?"

"About Sarah. You were right. She's your sister."

"I know."

"Now, I know, too." The elevator doors opened and the two of them walked out of the building and toward the entrance of the Navy Yard.

"I have to go back. I have school."

"I figured."

"Yeah, finals are coming up. I can't miss them."

"Definitely not." Tim stopped on the sidewalk, forcing Liz to stop and look at him. "Thanks for coming, Liz. I really mean that."

Liz hugged Tim, really hugged him for the first time.

"I wouldn't have missed this for the world, Tim."

"Neither would I." He pulled back. "You have all my contact information?"

"Yeah. I wouldn't give up having an older brother so easily."

Tim laughed and put an arm around her shoulders as he hailed a taxi. "You know, we got our height from Mom. Dad was actually pretty short."

Liz smiled. "So can I tell people that I'm related to the famous author?"

A taxi pulled up and Tim opened the door for her. "Absolutely. I'll see you later."

"Bye, bro."

Then, Liz was gone.

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_One month later..._

Tim walked into NCIS early. No one else was there yet; so he sauntered past the empty desks and headed to Sarah's room. He opened the door... and the room was empty. In fact, there was no sign that anyone had _ever_ been in the room, let alone as recently as last night. Tim sank into one of the chairs and felt the tears come to his eyes. It had been a wonderful month. He still had his ups and downs, but he was learning to live with them and even use them to his advantage. Thom's memories pained him deeply, but they were tempered by his continued contact with Liz and the knowledge that Sarah was getting better and was safe. Now, she was gone. He knew it was for the best, and he knew that he didn't have to worry... but all the same...

"Tim?"

"She's gone, Abby. They must have taken her last night or early this morning."

"I see."

"I know this is how it has to be, but..."

"You wanted to say good-bye?" Abby hugged him from behind.

"Yeah. We've kind of been saying good-bye for ages, but..." Tim wiped a stray tear away and then put his hand on Abby's arms.

"It's not forever."

"Gone, but not forgotten," he said sadly.

"Exactly."

Tim sighed. "So what do I do now?"

"Well, you could give me some help on the Lewiston case." Abby straightened.

Tim stood and faced her, a smile on his face, but sadness in his eyes. His eyes still hadn't completely lost that haunted look. They probably never would.

"I can do that."

"Good. I also got a call from that Janene girl."

"Who?" Then, comprehension flooded his face. "You mean...?"

"Yeah. The girl who started all this. She was asking how you were doing. It'd been so chaotic that I never had time to really contact her before."

"I need to talk to them. To that family."

Abby smiled. Tim was, for the moment at least, distracted from the new loss. "You'll have to use some sick leave... if you have any left."

"Director Shephard gave me some extra leave days, compensation I suppose."

"Well, Gibbs will never let you go in the middle of a case, you know."

"I know. Well, I've waited fifteen years. I can wait a few more days."

"Then, come and help me hack into Lewiston's computer."

"With pleasure." Tim kissed Abby quickly on the cheek and walked out of the room. Sarah was gone, but not forgotten.

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_Two weeks later..._

Tim walked alone through a park in New York. It was not Central Park, nor was it a large or particularly beautiful park. He looked across the street to an empty alley. He remembered standing there, watching for an opportunity to come out and grab the twenty-dollar bill than had been wedged under an old worn bench. He looked around to find the bench. Instead of the weather-beaten neglected seat he'd been expecting, there was a fancy bench with a wrought-iron frame and recently-stained wood. There was a plaque in the middle of the bench. He walked over to it. This was definitely _not_ the same bench he remembered.

He leaned over and read the inscription: _In memory of those who have no homes and no families on Christmas_. Unconsciously, he reached out and polished the plaque with his sleeve.

"Hello, sir." A young female voice came from behind him. "Do you like the bench?"

Tim straightened. He recognized the voice from the girl who had collided with him and Abby in Washington D. C. He doubted she would remember him for who he was.

"It's..." He had to stop, embarrassed by how choked up he was. "It's very nice." He turned around.

The teenager standing in front of him cocked her head to the side. "Do I know you? You look so familiar."

"We met briefly... twice."

"Twice? I'm Janene. That's my bench," she said, proudly. Her voice, more mature, but containing the same note of resolution he'd heard so many years before.

"My name is Tim McGee."

Her eyes went wide and she blushed bright red. "Oh! You're that man from D. C.!"

"Yeah. I am."

"But... but I only saw you once there. We tried to meet up again, but something came up."

"Yeah, you could say that." Tim sat down on the bench and looked up at her. "I actually saw you here about ten years ago."

"What?" She appeared to freeze in place. Her mouth began to form words that never actually made it into sounds. "At... at Christmas?" she finally managed.

"Yes. At Christmas. You gave me a sugar cookie shaped like a Christmas tree."

"I'd decorated them myself," she whispered, still standing motionless. "I come by here every day after school. I guess I always hoped... that someday I'd see you there again... all better and happy because I gave you a cookie." She laughed at herself. "But I don't think I ever really believed it would happen."

"I have to admit that I'm a little surprised to be back here myself." He leaned back against the back of the bench and looked around. "This park is a lot nicer in the summertime."

"Yeah. It's pretty miserable in the winter... but I'd guess that you know that already."

Tim nodded. "Yes, I know that."

Janene blinked suddenly. "Oh! Do you have time...? I mean, my dad would love to meet you. I don't think he ever forgot you either... of course, I didn't let him, but I think he always thought he'd see you again. He would walk with me through the park, in the hopes of finding you again."

"I'm here for the weekend. I can stick around if you'd like."

"Oh, yes. I'd love it." She pulled out her cell phone, and Tim had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. Why was it that teenagers needed cell phones? He'd got by quite well without one... his smiled faded a little as he remembered that was only in _one_ of his lives. He quickly pushed the thought away as Janene looked at him again. "He's sitting right here in front of me, Dad. Yes, I mean it. It's the same guy I knocked over a couple of months ago. Yeah, crazy, huh? Okay, see ya in a few. Love you. Bye."

"He's coming, I take it?"

"Yeah. Fridays are our days to hang out anyway."

"Oh, I don't want to intrude."

Janene shook her head violently. "No, no. You aren't. I'm so excited I can hardly stand it! Usually, I go over to his office and we leave from there, but he'll come and meet us here. Oh, wow."

Tim couldn't help but laugh. "I feel like a celebrity."

Janene looked abashed. "It's just that you're the one who started what I do."

"What's that?"

"I'm campaigning for the homeless. I've been doing fundraising for shelters and kitchens and anything else I could think of since I was five. That's why I was in D. C. I got a _grant_ and an invitation to a program there."

"Wow. I should be asking for _your_ autograph, I think."

"It will always be the other way around, I think," a man said as he approached. "You're up on a pedestal, and you'd better get used to it."

Tim stood hurriedly.

"You are him. I can't believe it. My name is Dan." He held out his hand, much like he had ten years ago.

"I'm Tim. This is so familiar, isn't it," he said as he shook the proffered hand.

"Yes, it is," Dan agreed. "Have you eaten? Janene and I usually get a late lunch together, nothing fancy, but you're more than welcome."

"Yes, please, come!" Janene said.

Tim smiled. "Okay. I'd love to."

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The three of them sat at a table in a nearby deli and talked for long time.

"You gave me one hundred dollars, not twenty," Tim observed at one point.

"It was Christmas," Dan said. "You looked like you needed it."

"I did... although I'm sorry to say that I never got a chance to use it, or the card you slipped inside it." Tim pulled the bill out of his pocket, along with the business card.

"Guilty as charged. I'd hoped that you would ask for help. Why didn't you get a chance to use it? You obviously have it still."

Tim shrugged and wondered how to explain it. "It's a very long and convoluted story, but well, have you watched the news lately?"

"Every day."

"There was an arraignment yesterday."

"Right, that man who was stealing information from government agencies using... I'm not sure what. The article was pretty convoluted."

"Essentially, he kidnaped people and, for lack of a better term, brainwashed them into working for him. I was one of those."

"And?"

"And they took me the same night."

"Oh," Janene breathed. Both she and Dan looked horrified at the revelation.

In an effort to lighten the atmosphere, Tim shook the bill. "I keep it with me all the time, you know."

"You don't spend it?"

"I don't need to. It's much nicer as a memento," Tim admitted, then wondered if he should have mentioned that.

Dan scrutinized him and then his eyes went wide. "I know who you are."

Tim blushed. "I knew I'd said too much."

Janene was looking back and forth between them. "What?"

"This is Thom E. Gemcity, the author of my new favorite novel."

"Wow, really? I really could get your autograph."

Tim chuckled.

"I hope we haven't kept you from anything, Tim."

"No. I'm taking a train to Connecticut later on, but I'm in no rush. One of the reasons I wanted to come here was to thank you for what you did that night. I didn't remember that it had even happened for a long time, but it was the first time in years that I felt alive."

Janene touched his arm, hesitantly. "How bad was it, Mr. McGee?"

"You can call me Tim. It was bad. I had no one and nothing, and there are people on the streets who have lost their humanity and only want to make sure everyone else does as well. There was a man who came very close to doing that to me. I don't what you've seen, but..." he looked at Dan who nodded. "...I was beaten more than once even when I had nothing just because they could. At first, I tried to get a job, to do something, but there were very few people willing to hire the homeless. I got by, but I felt more like I was postponing the inevitable than that I was actually living."

"What about shelters?"

"I didn't dare use them. Maybe now it's different, but before, shelters were controlled by the ones who held power on the streets. If you got on their bad side, you were not welcome in the shelter." He shrugged. "I was on the wrong side."

"Oh." Janene looked down, obviously aching to ask a question, but afraid to at the same time.

Dan knew what she wanted to ask, but he decided to let her do the asking. Instead, he gave her time to steel herself by asking a question himself.

"As I remember it, your hand was pretty mangled when we met you. Did it heal eventually?"

Tim held up his left hand. "Completely. You only see the scars when I cut off the circulation."

"Do mind if I ask what happened?"

He shook his head. "I don't mind, but..."

"Janene's seen and heard more than I would have wanted for my fifteen-year-old, but she's not easily shocked... not anymore. It amazes me that she's still as innocent as she seems to be."

"Da-ad!" Janene protested.

"I got it from a glass shard. The same man I told you about before, he had found me again and was ready to... attack me again. I decided that I wasn't going let it happen this time." He looked at Janene. "This shows you what living on the street can do... if you didn't know it already. I cut my hand on the glass while I was pinned to the ground. I picked it up, cutting my hand still more, and when he came at me, I lunged at him." Tim felt strange telling this tale to two virtual strangers, one of whom couldn't even vote yet, but the more often he admitted to these dark episodes, the better he could deal with it himself. Telling Ziva had been the hardest, but the best thing he had done. This was an abbreviated version, but the details were unnecessary in this instance. "I don't know how often I hit him, but I did enough that he ran away, he and all his followers."

"I wouldn't have guessed that you were the kind of person to do that when we saw you in the park," Dan observed.

"I wasn't. That was the second time I fought back. The first time they beat the tar out of me; but this time... I was a quiet, shy kid. I loved school, and I loved my family. I was well cared for. I wasn't a delinquent."

"What happened?" Janene asked.

"My parents died, and I fell through the cracks."

Janene looked down again and then finally seemed ready to ask her question. "Mr. McGee... I mean, Tim, would you...?"

"Would I what, Janene?"

"Would you be willing to... talk to my school? About being homeless and what brought you there? How you got out?"

"I didn't get out of my own accord, Janene. What happened to me is a pretty rare occurrence."

"What I mean is, people don't really understand what it's like to be homeless. I've tried to get the school to allow me to have some of the homeless people around here come and talk, but they've always refused. I'm not sure I could get the others to come either. But... you're famous, and you got out... even if it wasn't in the usual way. You haven't let it ruin you either. School's almost out for the year, but maybe next year?"

Tim looked at her for a long moment. She was so sincere in her efforts. He had essentially created the young woman sitting across from him, even if it had been unintentional on his part.

"It's the least I could do. If I can, I will. You'll need to schedule it a long time in advance; so I can get time off for it." He fished in his bag. "Here's my card. Give me a call when you know."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Tim. I can't thank you enough."

"That's enough. I promise."

Janene blushed. They talked for awhile longer, and made tentative plans for him to stay with them on the off chance that Janene got her way with the school. Then, he said good-bye to Dan and Janene and ran to catch his train to Connecticut.

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It had been easy to find the correct cemetery. His only worry had been finding the correct plot, but a sympathetic worker had helped him navigate his way through the old graves to his parents' relatively new markers. He'd been here before, but only once and it was a long time ago. However, he recognized the markers as soon as he saw them and realized he had put them in his own memories to mark his nonexistent parents' graves.

"We don't get many flowers on them," the worker commented sadly as he watched Tim place the bouquet on the graves.

"I've been gone a _long_ time."

"Don't I know you?" the worker asked suddenly. "You look so familiar."

"These are my parents," Tim said, but the worker, while young, didn't look familiar to him. "I'm sorry, but I don't know you."

"Wait! I know! Mrs. Line always showed a picture of you in class when it was time for doing science projects!" Although mindful of what Tim was doing, the worker smiled. "You sure gave us all a lot to live up to. I don't think she ever thought anyone else could measure up, although we sure tried. Do you work for NASA?"

Tim smiled, in spite of himself. "No. NCIS."

"What's that?"

"Military law enforcement."

"Wow, really? You're almost a celebrity here, you know... at least in school. Mrs. Fine still has your picture and project set up in her room."

"Really?"

"Yeah... Hey, it's late, but I'll bet she's still there. You want to see her?" Then, suddenly he seemed to realize what he was saying. "I mean, I'm sorry. You're obviously here to see your parents, not an old teacher."

Tim looked down at the graves. His parents were both dead and had been for a long time. It took some doing, but he dredged up his memories of science with Mrs. Line. They had been good ones.

"No, that would nice. I'd like to see her again."

"Great! I'm off-shift now. I'll take you over."

It wasn't until much later that Tim was able to get back to the cemetery. Once he had allowed Mrs. Line to fall all over him in glee, it had come out that he was a best-selling author and the English teachers had come to talk and get autographs. He hadn't felt up to explaining what had happened. Instead, he said that he'd legally changed his name to Tim after college and then decided to use his given name for his pseudonym. It had sufficed as an explanation. Then, he came back to the quiet and empty cemetery. He stared down at all that remained of Thomas and Liza Gemcity. Because the house had been completely destroyed, there were few personally items that remained, whether photos or knick-knacks. He knelt down on the grass and wiped away the dirt that had collected around the base. He wondered who had picked out the headstones. He didn't remember doing it. He sighed and then took out his phone and snapped a picture. He wouldn't be getting up here very often, he knew. He needed something.

He stood and stared at the graves as he dialed. He talked to Liz for a few minutes, told her where he was and sent her the photo. Then, he disconnected and dialed again.

"Hey, Abby."

"Tim, how's it going?"

"It's strange."

"Is anything normal about your recent past?"

"Nope, not a thing."

"Where are you?"

"In the cemetery where my parents are buried. You know, I never even thought to visit my other parents. I wonder if there was a grave for them. I only remember this one."

"It'll have to do for both sets, I guess."

Tim let out a short laugh. "I guess. I don't think I can come here very much. It's too hard."

"Why?"

"I can't help thinking about what might have been. It's silly, but I remember how happy I was, and I wonder what I would have been doing."

"Do you regret the life you have now, Tim?"

Tim looked at the graves and then around the cemetery, in the gathering dusk.

"No. I told... Sarah that I only had her and Liz, but I was wrong. I've had a larger family for awhile now."

"Aw, Tim. Does Tony know that?"

"No, and you're not going to tell him either."

"Who would he be?"

"The annoying older brother, of course."

"What about me?"

"You're... special."

"Well, thank you, Tim," Abby said lightly, although her cheeks reddened. She was glad no one was around to see her. "When are you coming back?"

"Tomorrow." Tim's voice choked. "It's hard to realize that she's still gone."

"She'll be back."

"I know."

"And until then, you won't be alone, Tim. You'll always have me."

Tim smiled. "I know. Bye, Abby."

"See you in couple days."

Tim hung up, took one last look around the cemetery and left in twilight of a day spent in the past.


	51. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Two years later..._

"Hey, Probie, you want to catch a movie tonight?" Tony asked as he stood to leave the bullpen. Tim didn't react. "Yo! McGee!"

Tim looked up, startled. "What, Tony?"

"I said, do you want to catch a movie or something?"

"Oh, no thanks. Not tonight. Raincheck, okay?"

"I don't give rainchecks, Probie. You'll have to wait until I'm feeling magnanimous again."

"Been practicing that word long, Tony?" Tim asked, teasingly.

"Ha ha. Very funny. I don't _want_ you to come anymore." That was a lie. As the unofficial deadline of two years had come and gone with no return of Sarah, Tim had sunk into a low-level depression. It wasn't dangerous, not yet, anyway, but he'd been withdrawing more than usual. Blaser had finally exhausted his appeals after his conviction. Sarah had appeared, testified, and disappeared during his trial and subsequent appeals. They had all anticipated her return. Tim had teased Tony about wanting to date his sister, now that she was closer to his age. Tony had laughed but hadn't quite denied it. But two months had passed with no sign. It was useless and dangerous to ask Jenny when she'd be back; so none of them had tried it, but they'd all noticed Tim's withdrawal. He fought it and, like now, was able to pull himself out, often with help from the rest of the team, but it didn't last. Without quite admitting it consciously, they had all become worried about him alone in his apartment at night. Abby stayed over sometimes, but not every night.

"Shucks. I'm in the depths of despair," Tim said, shifting his voice into the whispery voice of the albino monk from _The Princess Bride_.

"It's _pit _of despair, McGee. Have I taught you nothing?"

"Apparently not."

"Are you sure you don't want to come along?" Tony asked sincerely.

"I'm sure."

"See you tomorrow then."

"Bye, Tony." Tim watched as Tony got on the elevator and then sighed as his mood turned black again. He knew that the two years had only been a rough estimate, but being nearly two months past it was hard, and it got harder and harder as time passed. Everyone had been great, but it was hard.

It wasn't that his life had been full of waiting for Sarah to reappear. He and Liz got together two or three times a year. Last year they had visited Connecticut together. She would be graduating at the end of the summer and he planned on being there for it. Janene had got him to speak at her school, not once, but twice, and she had begged him to do it again. _Rock Hollow_ had finally been published and, to his surprise, was doing just as well as _Deep Six_ had done. The on-again phase of his relationship with Abby had lasted nearly two years, and it was hard to tell who was more surprised by that, he or Abby. He'd even been happy, but he needed to know that his family was safe. That included Sarah, and he couldn't know which meant that he was left in limbo. It was the not-knowing that was the hardest thing to bear.

"Still here, McGee?"

Tim looked up, tearing himself away from his reverie once more.

"Yeah, Ziva."

"I found something." Tim looked at her curiously. She seemed ill-at-ease, but not sorrowful, as she would have been if Sarah had been the _something_.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, ever since you told me of that...king who tormented you, I have been trying to find him."

"Why?" Tim asked, suddenly a little leery of where this conversation might head. Ziva still had a merciless mean streak that even the past two years had not been able to get out of her.

"Don't look at me like that. I would not have killed him. I was thinking of getting him arrested."

"I think there's a statute of limitations on assault, Ziva."

"Well, it does not matter." She held out a clipping. "This is the man, I think. Do you agree?"

Tim looked at the article. It was about the problem of violence on the streets of New York City, written about ten years ago. The photo along with the clipping was of a man horrifically familiar to Tim. In fact, it was all he could do not to through the offending image into the trash. He forced himself to look at the photo.

"He was killed in some sort of brawl outside a bar."

Tim looked again at the photo and noticed it was an autopsy photo. He could see numerous half-healed scars, most likely from a shard of glass.

"I didn't kill him then."

"It does not seem so."

"I can't believe how much that matters to me, even now."

"I can."

Tim looked up at her. "Thank you, Ziva." He stood and hugged her quickly. As long as no one was around, she was more than willing to share in that friendly contact. It had never grown into something romantic. For that, they were both thankful. Their friendship had deepened, however, and they wouldn't trade that private closeness for anything.

"I will dispose of this, but I thought you might like to know."

"Yes, I did. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Good night."

"'Night." Tim sat down again and leaned back in his chair. Knowing that he hadn't killed the King of the Alleys took a load off him that he hadn't even realized he was carrying. It was so like Ziva to know what would help when she couldn't address his main concern. Now, he just had to wait for Gibbs to come down from Jenny's office and leave. Then, he could give up the pretense that he was working and sneak down to Abby's lab and sleep. He'd been sleeping here more and more often. He didn't always want company, but the last few days he couldn't bear going to his empty apartment. Abby had already left, understanding that he needed to be alone.

He waited, but Gibbs didn't appear. The latest case had required late nights and early mornings of everyone, and he was tired. His eyes drooped and his head fell to the desk as he gave into his exhaustion and abandoned himself to fitful dreams.

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"Tim... Tim... wake up," the voice was whispered, like a tendril of music through his slumber. "Tim!"

Tim's eyelids fluttered. The overhead lights were still on and they blinded him. He squeezed his eyes tight shut again.

"Wake up, Tim!" The voice was tantalizingly familiar and becoming more insistent.

He finally pulled himself back to consciousness and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He stopped mid-rub and gaped. A young woman with blonde-streaked brown hair stood in front of him, smiling excitedly at him. He stood, a disbelieving smile on his own face. He couldn't speak.

"The two-time best-selling author has no words?" she said facetiously. "I'm shocked. I expected more."

As he had before, Tim could only say her name. "Sarah..."

"Ah, you recognized me. I thought you might have forgotten what I looked like."

Tim finally got his brain working again. "Never. Although your hair is quite different."

Sarah's smile never flickered, but her eyes filled with tears. "I've missed you, bro."

"I've missed you, too, sis."

They stared at each other for a few more seconds before Sarah dropped her bag and grabbed Tim in a bear hug. He reciprocated.

"Are you back?"

"I'm back... if you still want me."

"You're always welcome. I love you, Sarah," Tim said, tears spilling from his own eyes.

"I love you, too, Tim." Sarah cried into his shoulder. "I feel like I'm me again."

"I know exactly what you mean," Tim said quietly.

From high above, Jenny and Gibbs leaned on the balcony, watching the scene.

"_Now_, it's over, Jen," Gibbs said.

"I agree, Jethro. This is a good way to end it," she said.

"Not the end, just a new beginning," he amended.

_The beginning..._

* * *

**A/N:** Hey, y'all! Thanks for reading! This has been the longest story I've ever written, bar none. I hope you enjoyed the wild ride. 


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